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The Nancy Walton Pringle Memorial Prize

Tim Taylor

 

Night Song

Breathing the night, the gardenias,
the dromedaries of the dead
wade the pools of moonlight,
drifting down from the blue sands.

The dromedaries of the dead
walk Grove Street, to Tenth, to Dunneman,
drifting down from the blue sands,
pausing silent at our doors.

Walk Grove Street, to Tenth, to Dunneman:
That is what the postman does,
pausing silent at our doors,
with dark envelopes, endings.

That is what the postman does.
I am full up
with dark envelopes, endings.
Stay here with me one hour.

I am full up.
Wade the pools of moonlight—
stay here with me one hour,
breathing the night, the gardenias.