The Boys From Rugby

Ten minutes ago I returned home from this year's Squaw Valley Community of Writers poetry reading benefit featuring Bob Hass, Evie Shockley, Brenda Hillman, Forest Gander and Sharon Olds.  So poetry tonight, and that's how it is.

The Boys From Rugby

The boys from rugby pass

cleats clacking on the wet concrete

and in the puddles their otherworld brothers march under identical leaden skies

These subalterns with mud on their shins

These wild and tired boys

These other mothers’ sons

Who will be home in time for dinner

Smile on each other then

These northern lads from northern lands

The west has already been won.

So I stand by

And I stand by.

Other sons pass through unwon lands on the other side of the gate

Once I stood

For those boys wild and broken

Those otherworld brothers

My morning boys with their endless needing

On the run from R.I.P.s sneaky as rogue waves

Forgotten sons of loveless mothers with hearts like graves.

I do not stand by them now.

My arms are empty and hang by my sides.

The boys from rugby pass and smile

In friendly greetings, too fleet for Death

Too loved for need yet

Needlessly I stand. And I stand.