Not Like That – Poetry by Craig Dobson

Two Guides – Winslow Homer

you say, for the umpteenth time that day, 
then guide my hand across the world’s face 
in an old light of tarnish and spice. 

And though I know it’s just a dream, 
and only death waits me when I wake, 
I want to get it right, sensing  

that the ease you share with forces  
ordering things out there  
in this other life is more than anything  

I can know, alone in my antique  
sun’s scented glow, misperforming
whatever troubles me so  

until it brings you near, in the musk  
and Troy-bronze possibilities,
to show me once again how it’s done. 


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