b.z. niditch | auden's entr'acte

Painting by Caravaggio 1571-1610


Bloomsbury is over
in your latent Latin
you learn about
God at matins,

What about Iscarriot
and the betrayal
the proletariat
no longer on the grail,

Life was a lament
even in exile
you were a parent
in the smile of a gent,

We spoke
after a reading
and you awoke
for a drink and feeding,

Your sunken
rather braided face
a drunken Rimbaud
you quoted by grace,

The urban window
in the pub was airless
you ordered Bourbon
my English was careless,

There was a wise wit
of public convenience
at private conscience
your eyes lit up,

At least I met you
even between acts
Auden will always
be modern in his end days.

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