The star shines in the barrel now     outside your court,
Earth is harder now,     incarnate truth
grows saltier,     more real.     I won't be Hamlet
going back to Elsinore,     or naked     writhe

with David     by the ark     outside Jerusalem--
but in Firenze,     on my knees     outside the Instituto
Henry Gould     where you sought refuge once:     a lamb
when I     a wolf     had left     your island road


& when this rusty orb comes round,
they'll find me     Henry     numbered

marble     begging for forgiveness there
from you     & from the flagrant Lord
of Florentine     pine-scented air

Henry Gould | Island Road 75
Contents | Mudlark No. 6