Always Emma Gray

Emma Gray

Always

The young poet says he is getting married, the workshop has a wedding theme. When we are to choose a person for a starting point he homes to his girlfriend as an example of a person,

says he always thinks of her

in a yellow raincoat though she doesn’t have one and did we hear her in the next room laughing? He doesn’t know what at. I wonder at a longing to pause us to ask

and what, when we write our lists of things old, new, borrowed and blue, he is placing on the long linened table of his page -

if he worries his gift of a raincoat (there by the sonnets, the song thrush’s egg) might replace the one she wears when he holds her in thought always

weatherproof, golden.