This Friday’s Ulster Poet: Frank Ormsby: One Looks At One (Gate of Heaven, Valhalla, N.Y.)

She steps from behind a tombstone,

is delicately there,

as though shaped from those sad poems

about dead deer.

or simply to stop trembling

and accept the caress

of the way I keep my distance,

muffle the trespass

of even a sudden look.

She watches me sideways,

I ogle a Celtic cross

for as long as it takes to be counted incidental

then not to count. At last I can watch her pass

unscared into the morning, so tuned to place she

is its sole movement. How soft must be the air

in her fine nostrils. How sweet the cemetery grass.

3 thoughts on “This Friday’s Ulster Poet: Frank Ormsby: One Looks At One (Gate of Heaven, Valhalla, N.Y.)

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