By Robert Creeley
All night the sound had
come back again,
and again falls
this quiet, persistent rain.
What am I to myself
that must be remembered,
insisted upon
so often? Is it
that never the ease,
even the hardness,
of rain falling
will have for me
something other than this,
something not so insistent—
am I to be locked in this
final uneasiness.
Love, if you love me,
lie next to me.
Be for me, like rain,
the getting out
of the tiredness, the fatuousness, the semi-
lust of intentional indifference.
Be wet
with a decent happiness.
Republished by permission of the University of California Press, from Selected Poems of Robert Creeley by Robert Creeley, copyright © 1991; permission conveyed through Copyright Clearance Center, Inc.
Source: Selected Poems of Robert Creeley (University of California Press, 1991)
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