Poets Prolonging the Evening

Hastings Wyman, Jr.

Strangers on new carpet
Bared their souls aloud
Affirming, growing
Not knowing when to stop.
Later among pot plants,
Drinking hot tea
Speaking of islands, ghosts
South American religions
Of the whale that swam the sea
In search of the sailboat
It had rutted with for days,
We regarded snow on tops of trees
Like mutes with hands in pockets,
Smiled away the cold.


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