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Howard Nemerov - To D—, Dead By Her Own Hand
Work rating: Low

My dear, I wonder if before the end 
You ever thought about a children’s game— 
I’m sure you must have played it too—in which 
You ran along a narrow garden wall 
Pretending it to be a mountain ledge 
So steep a snowy darkness fell away 
On either side to deeps invisible; 
And when you felt your balance being lost 
You jumped because you feared to fall, and thought 
For only an instant: That was when I died. 


That was a life ago. And now you’ve gone, 
Who would no longer play the grown-ups’ game 
Where, balanced on the ledge above the dark, 
You go on running and you don’t look down, 
Nor ever jump because you fear to fall.
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