And so like a ghost able to break through
but unable to remain,
I saw you in that other place we knew—
before the rain,
wind and thunder and certain elements
that I cannot name or know
just weathered up in their dark translucence—
that’s how we go:
divided from the one beloved face
still visible through the cloud.
I would stay with you in that other place—
if wind allowed.
This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 29 Number 4, on page 36
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