Madrigal in Time of War

Beside the rivers of the midnight town Where four-foot couples love and paupers drown, Shots of quick hell we took, our final kiss, The great and swinging bridge a bower for this. Your cheek lay burning in my fingers’ cup; Often my lip moved downward and yours up Till both adjusted, tightened, locksmith-true: The flesh precise, the crazy brain askew. Roughly the train with grim and piston knee Pounded apart our pleasure, you from me; Flare warned and ticket whispered and bell cried. Time and the locks of bitter rail divide. For ease remember, all that parted lie: Men who in camp of shot or doldrum die, Who at land’s-end eternal furlough take —This for memento as alone you wake.