The Tuesday Poem: Argos, from the “Ithaca Conversations Sequence

Argos
.

Lying nose to paws in the shadow of the arched gate,

eyes fixed on the white, twisting road to the sea,

listening for the familiar footstep, the beloved voice

that urged me on as we raced together, over

the rocky mountainside, both young, both strong

of heart – how my voice echoed in the craggy

heights, belling out for stag, or wild boar: all done,

all done with now as I twitch in half-dreams,

remembering, feeling that intoxicating rush again,

while the young men shout their curses –...