by David Yezzi
False Fire
The players withdraw in rain,
rattling over the high road.
After a princely welcome,
all hoopla and fol-de-rol,
their shadowy spectacle proved
too much to bear. They pass
the walls without fanfare or thanks,
winding to the south, seaward,
cart wheels sunk in the mud
where Yorick keeps his tongue,
his antics latterly praised,
as grave makes way for grave.
David Yezzi’s most recent collection of poems is Azores (2008). He is the executive editor of The New Criterion.
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