Doppelgängers
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
You almost smell despair of men alone
When they have lost that one friend, that one near
They found they loved as if a holy clone
Had walked inside their chest. He left a smear
Of beauty poets do not write about
Except when woman does it. That one man
Was closer like man’s marrow, and a shout
Of Holy Ghost inside the ribcage span.
They knew each other in their twenties when
The city was the color of a spring
Unending. They walked speaking, hope-clothed men,
Ignoring childhood wounds, no wedding ring
Or vows required since injuries not shared
Were sacred to them both, these victims paired.
