Poems March 2019
The living will
Too grizzled now to play the wunderkind,
too apt to sit where I have often sat,
I, Aaron Vaughn Poochigian, now that
my nose has thickened and my hair has thinned,
do hereby most imprudently rescind
the rulebook I propounded, all my sessile
growths and impediments, so that, a vessel
beholden only to the waves and wind,
I may be free to drift out of the bay.
Hereafter I shall whiff the fragrant coasts
of Araby, Dundeya, and Cathay
and, further out, beyond the round world’s spalling
margin, hear Odysseus’s ghosts
squeaking like hinges, hear the Sirens calling.
A Message from the Editors
Support our crucial work and join us in strengthening the bonds of civilization.
Your donation sustains our efforts to inspire joyous rediscoveries.
This article originally appeared in The New Criterion, Volume 37 Number 7, on page 27
Copyright © 2023 The New Criterion | www.newcriterion.com
https://newcriterion.com/issues/2019/3/the-living-will