poetry book

They say the ice will hold

so there I go,

forced to believe them by my act of trusting people,

stepping out on it,

and naturally it gaps open

and I, forced to carry on coolly

by my act of being imperturbable,

slide erectly into the water wearing my captain's helmet,

waving to the shore with a sad smile,

"Goodbye my darlings, goodbye dear one,"

as the ice meets again over my head with a click.

—Edward Field