“One morning I found that if I held ear
To speaker, I could detect gulls screeching
Distantly behind Debussy’s Lent,
Mélancolique et doux.” This hour, with sun’s
Frozen architecture off Manhattan,
Ice of moments pursuing light beyond
Origin of day and those cries—woke holding her
Hand as she dreamed alone under a sky.
He remembered once they danced beneath
A constellation-stained canopy, closed
His eyes and inquired would she sleep with him.
Her bare right shoulder drooped slightly and she
Whispered “probably” just as her boyfriend
Entered the swirling crowd with a bottle
Of Château Margaux and two empty glasses.
Ernest Hilbert
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-sin-originates-them/
