Helen Hoyt

From “The Harp”

AT last we let each other go,

And I left you;

Left the demand and the desire of you,

And all our windings in and out and bickerings of love.

And I was wandering

Through corridors and rooms of pictures,

Waiting for my mind to sharpen again

Out of its blur.

Now was stern air to breathe,

High, rational,

Clear of you and me.

The medals in their ordered cases,

Round and clean-edged,

Cooled me.

The tossing and tumbling of my body

Drew itself into form,

Into poise,

Looking at their fine symmetry of being.