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So on we worked, and waited for the light,
And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;
And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,
Went home and put a bullet through his head.

Final Verse from Richard Cory by Edwin Arlington Robinson

SAVE HIM

too favored too slim
somebody save him

see him, butterfly —
his “Good Mornings” a cry

you saw his crown
it dazzled your eyes

like a hypnotic notion
your pulse weakens

as the color drained
from his diamond skin

you yearned to squeeze your bare feet
into his bedazzling footsteps of fame

with an empty forest of pockets, you dream
for Mr. Cory’s golden breadcrumbs of sin

cold, hungry hands in jealousy
whilst Cory turns forever green

only then do you bend your knee
in thankfulness of another dawn

remember we are all men
and sometimes we forget “our fellows”

perhaps one lass or lad with honest eyes
could have penetrated some of the lies

perhaps Richard would have opened the book,
having the Creator race his pulse, salvation sought

11/26/2018

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