The Second Best

The Second Best


I've lost my best poem.
You'd content yourself with
   this second best.
They both concern you.
That's what makes
   them best.
If things were different--
   the first said--
   you and I'd date.
If you were blond
   and I brunette
   we'd have sprung
   together.
Nothing less.

--You have the power
   to inspire that
   which had better rest.

You and I together--
   it said--  
   walk like best men
   who pass each other by
   in a wedding aisle,
   you coming up
   and I going down.

--A full account’d here make
   no room for rest.

When I close my eyes
   I can see you
   in your best.
It feels so.
I wish so
   unless
   "Words fail me, my Lords,"
   is best said.
I am full of words
   which fail me
   the way I am
   but which make the world
   spin faster
   at your behest.

This poem--being only
   the second best--
   can hardly express
   that which the first
   bequest'd
   upon you and I
   a wish so sublime
   that it fled once committed
   and put to test.

--Prague 24 January 2008