Whispers

 

That thing I heard and turned
To tell before remembering,
What then?  She would
Have been delighted
Hearing but what now?  I
Cannot throw it out,
Cast it away as being

Of no consequence.
It would have been,
And I longed to tell her.
Did Mayakovski seek some
One he longed for as he
Rushed off before
Forgetting?

Did Ahab keep on in the sea
Till all enrapt he told the
Great white whale all that
Burdened him?  I haven’t
Such resolve, listen merely
From time to time whispering
As though she hears me after all.