To a Forgotten Poem of 1935

To leave behind a verse for that sad hour

That watches us at day's edge, lying in wait;

To affix your signature to its grievous date

Of gold and shadow—that was your desire.

With what passion, as twilight deepened, you

Would toil over the peculiar verse

That till the extinction of the universe

Would manifest that hour's peculiar blue!

I don't know if you ever managed it,

My ghostly brother, or if you existed even,

But I am lonesome, and I wish oblivion

Could give back to the days your delicate

Shadow, that it might live in this worn shell

Of words in which the blues of evening dwell.

                                               after Borges

Robert Mezey

From Collected Poems: 1952-1999, University of
Arkansas Press, © 2000.  Reprinted by permission
of the author.