AN OLD POET'S LAMENT

A LOVE SONG

"I wonder, my love, if I have what it takes
to write one more poem. They do not come easy to me anymore,
the sounds of wind, whispers, wings, whirlpools, and waterfalls;
the spaces in which fish dance and planets carouse;
the beats, rhythms, pulses; the staccato chatter of machine guns
and cackle of old hens; petunias tickling your nose,
the sobs of a lost child, an angry slap on a beloved face--
certainly something should come out of all this, a poem
with at least one line worth remembering,
telling you that loving you is all my heart was shaped for--
but my bent fingers are suddenly numb,
and the keys of my typewriter are S tu cck c kkkkk."