WEBVTT

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"Middle Life."

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Shall the swallow contend
in song with the swan?

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Shall the fawn run along
the strong-limbed steed?

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The childhood provoked, exuded
a juice resembling milk,

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until the spate was spent.

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Winsome we were.

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We rushed to catch the
first flirt, the first fire.

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Now the head's so
heavy, the hands that

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hold it press into the eyes.

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So what is seen, is seen double.

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The lamp in the night
window, now twin lights.

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The man wearing two
faces and two bodies,

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now four-faced,
each of them you.