Madrigal in Time of War

John Frederick Nims

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.