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The Last Days Of Youth
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By John Adams

We let our love go
Without remark, frenzied though
We had first taken to the fields,
Divining in scrap metal messages
And mucking in the reeds, yielding
Up the scummy branches and turtle-shell stones.
We lived in the slough of first love, and happily
We drank wine and mocked the grapes in the vintage.
Mocked the blood in our bodies, we said: If it's
Within us, were of greater value. Did we
Understand this baby talk? Certainly I thought
You were in me, and I was in you. I, for one
Was nudged headlong into the reason of things.
I fell over myself. You ground my face
In the pond-slush. I made jest of your sickness, you
Of mine. Twined in one another and blind, we
Scorched one another. This was, for both, but the first
Of the last days of youth.