Wider Still and Wider from the Earth

Wider Still and Wider from the Earth

And in that Heaven of all their wish, there shall be no more land, say fish.

Rupert Brooke

The fancies of that young one, Rupert Brooke,

Were wider than “just” girls and women.  He

Liked those—and more.  The autumn hair that shook

Him was the head of Charles Lascelles.  Its plea

Lodged sharply in the poet’s heart, twanging

Like arrows when they first embed their points

In targets on the field.  The waves hanging

Along that forehead struck him.  Shoulder joints

Became obsessions whether he could spy

Their armpit hair or not.  Their upper arms

Were potions like Isolde’s.  Then when an eye

Met his, he felt its glories and its harms.

  Those gorgeous harms went ricocheting through

    His ribcage, whether they were brown or blue.

Phillip Whidden