The Look of a Bay Mare
And the look of a bay mare shames silliness out of me
Yes, but what about this goofy possum
waddling myopic across my midnight yard?
Compared to that I'm practically full of gravitas.
And besides, that old bay mare won't give me
the time of day, runs away from
my generous carrot, my sugar cube.
Still, here I am waiting for The Look to banish
all my folly and absurdity--but perhaps I've got
too much for your average horse to handle.
Ever think of that, Walt Whitman?
Maybe it would take a bison at least
to shame the likes of me.
Possibly I'd require all of childhood's blushes
and an entire waning moon to boot.
And what if I like my silliness?
Surely you of all people, Walt, would understand
if I kept a little bit of it in my pocket
like hard candy, to be doled out to children
and the variously wounded. You could have filled
the East River with the smallest portion
of your good gray silliness, after all--
That was at least half your charm.
Well, we all waddle across
the dewy grass sometime,
dragging our ropy tails. Why not tonight?
- David Graham (from Poemeleon)