Classic Poem

All the while, within the chamber
camera men awaited our embrace
which never came.
Our hearts like clocks beat near
near, nearer, and more near
with every footfall up the corridor.
There was yet time to be alone.
(Never before had we known the generosity of seconds)
There was yet time,
and in that time, our lifetime.
All the pictures floated forward from the wall
upward, and to the right;
— no — upon looking again,
downward, and to the left.
She heard the me of years-to-come speak loud:
" I never write you;
I hardly ever think of you;
Yet what I think and do
is thought and done
with reference to you. "
Operators behind the ceiling
had tangled up the wires
and taut cords held our heads high.
I could not turn a quarter-circle
nor advance the requisite half-step
to lift my arms up, move them over
and drop my head on hers
with the abrupt simplicity of a doll.
Light pierced the leaves and flecked the mirrors;
clear and clearer, and more clear
the sun swam through the lessening rain.
We had grown wise in all things before love.