Angelic Concerns for the Rosy Swan, a Bar

 

which I have never seen

but dreamt, for there

folks are friends,

the kind who face each other

at the dawn

in bed, and not alone.

 

            *

 

My erstwhile friend took classes

in constructing verse,

where teachers praise,

though fellow students

criticize this line or that

and wonder if he’s

“earned that final line.”

 

            *

 

In my dream,

these people tease

their fame.

 

            *

 

My friend that was

won’t join them

for he hates their sound,

 

writes verse

supple as his leather and his skin,

with which he finds his pleasure.