Alone never shares lonely’s sad table.
Alone will dine only with solitude,
toasting glasses to all their laughable
bouts with pain, failures, snarling slights from rude
lovers. See how they gaze through dark windows,
smile and honor the half-moon—its balance
of shadow and light retracing earth’s slow
evolution and devolution. Glance
at their swift feet as they dance to Mozart,
then stand still in silent grace. What Shakespeare
knew of alone he saved for Hamlet’s heart
and tormented lips, too tortured with fear
to share solitude’s faith. Caught, he’d cower
to blood’s clot and the ghost’s raging power.
Roger Armbrust
December 15,
2013
