POINTS ON THE GRID
George Bowering
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THE NIGHT BEFORE MORNING
With it all over
and you & I
in separate beds
in separated houses,
I think of
Troilus & Cressida
cursing the sun-
rise from their hurricaned bed;
he to clatter away
on his army horse,
she to pick
her sunny way home——
you & I
with nothing touching
but our private thoughts:
mine of poetry,
yours of a strong morning.
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