Wave goodby now to the shadows passing clear
across the river in their coppery gondolas.
Charlie, Mrs. Gould, the Doctor, good
Nostromo, yes     the Man     uomo nostro
salt     of bold tormented fortitude

will     steer through
breakers of dusk     over the bow,

Only in Hades may     you understand
at last     this iron-anchored     tenderness,
a glinting curve     in the mud & rust--
her flagrant disguise--     one hand
leading the way     into a further darkness,
weighted     with all earth (& loneliest).

Henry Gould | Island Road 55
Contents | Mudlark No. 6