Last Night

by William Corbett

It’s the end of August
and the ferns are rusty.
A sick leaf lands
splat on the car window.
Paul, Siri, Sophie
left late this afternoon:
Russell and Chase drove home
this morning. Last night
we drank eight bottles
of wine and a half bottle
of Armagnac while talking
unceasingly of affection,
old friends together after
many months apart. Alone,
cheerful crickets attend me
and the puppies make mock
war at my feet. I start this,
"There are days friendship…"
winding up for the big
sentiment, but last night our
hearts were simpler than that.

 

William Corbett’s new book of poems, Boston Vermont, will appear from Zoland Books in September, 1999. His book on the sculptor John Raimondi will appear from Hudson Hills later this fall. (1999)