N O V E M B E R 1 9 9 5
OURSby Stephen Tapscott
You and I knew what there was to
Typically you were the brave one, weeping:
until I thought your brains would fly out through your face
relieved and stupefied. My sweetest friend,
Me, I was angry. Am:
this stupid tutorial pain. That God, in God's time,
for us, except remorseless pity?
is ours, He has
I think it is impossible to think of a god
would that do two men standing on a platform
an empty Sunday evening?
for us both, even lacking grace.
to put the pity for a little while:
and pauses, for you to climb up then and go.
Copyright © 1995 by The Atlantic Monthly Company. All rights reserved.