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Flashlights

Chapter 22: WHEN YOU COME
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About This Book

A compact collection of lyric sketches, reflective poems, and stories in verse that illuminate fleeting moments of urban and domestic life. Through vignette-style pieces the author observes barbershops, cafés, and crowded public spaces, probing loneliness, social exchange, and quiet moral dilemmas. Other poems turn inward to meditate on longing, rest, and mortality, sometimes adopting epistolary or conversational forms. A concluding section offers narrative metres that compress human interactions into sharp dramatic scenes. Spare language, sensory detail, and shifts between irony and tenderness bind the sections into a mosaic of early twentieth-century moods and manners.

WHEN YOU COME

(“There was a girl with him for a time. She took him to her room when he was desolate and warmed him and took care of him. One day he could not find her. For many weeks he walked constantly in that locality in search of her.”—From Life of Francis Thompson.)

When you come tonight
To our small room
You will look and listen—
I shall not be there.
You will cry out your dismay
To the unheeding gods;
You will wait and look and listen—
I shall not be there.
There is a part of you I love
More than your hands in mine at rest;
There is a part of you I love
More than your lips upon my breast.
There is a part of you I wound
Even in my caress;
There is a part of you withheld
I may not possess.
There is a part of you I hate—
Your need of me
When you would be alone,
Alone and free.
When you come tonight
To our small room
You will look and listen—
I shall not be there.