The hurt purple of evening’s clouds
has pulled its quilting between the rooves and stars,
and winter spreads its tablecloths
upon the dozen building tops within his view.
Only the table in the farthest corner
has a light,
awaiting the happy couple
whose reservation has been cancelled.
*
In the gathering dark the snow appears
as a prayer of the heart spoken
long before it is known by the mind,
as once they had entered each other’s lives,
as wind begins its quiet dance with snow.
The deeper dark behind him grows:
the quiet sanctuary abandoned,
he stares at the single light.
*
Every table is the most expensive in the house:
the one at which no one is seated;
the lit one is exorbitant,
but for it we would not be open.
Only by accident and unknowing
will both be in this city again,
though the fresh linen snow will fall
a dozen times this winter,
starched to the crisp fall at the corners
on the tables they once looked upon
with love.
Gene Fendt is the Albertus Magnus professor of Philosophy at the University of Nebraska, Kearney. His first book of poetry, “Eternal Life and Other Poems” will be published early in 2025 by Angelico Press.
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THE CITY KEY 