Whoa, a couple weeks got by me there, and I’d meant to do such a good job with Phil Levine on Labor Day… I tell ya, the cracks are really starting to show on Monday’s Verse. Luckily, there was a joint book review of the new Seamus Heaney and Paul Muldoon, wherein I discovered this poem, which is dedicated to my Uncle Tony. ~mjl
THE DOOR WAS OPEN AND THE HOUSE WAS DARK
The door was open and the house was dark
Wherefore I called his name, although I knew
The answer this time would be silence
That kept me standing listening while it grew
Backwards and down and out into the street
Where as I’d entered (I remember now)
The streetlamps too were out.
I felt, for the first time there and then, a stranger,
Intruder almost, wanting to take flight
Yet well aware that here there was no danger,
Only withdrawal, a not unwelcoming
Emptiness, as in a midnight hangar
On an overgrown airfield in late summer.