For Robert Kennedy 2 by Robert Lowell
How they hated to leave the unpremediatated
gesture of their life -- the Irish in black, three rows
ranks for the future photography, the Holy Name,
fiercely believed in then, then later held to
perhaps more fiercely in their unbelief ...
We were refreshed when you wisecracked through the guests,
usually somewhat woodenly, hoarsely dry...
Who would believe the nesting, sexing tree swallow
would dive for eye and brain -- this handbreadth insect,
navy butterfly, the harbinger of rain,
changed to a danger in the twilight? Will we
swat out the birds as ruthlessly as flies? ...
God haunts us. Who has seen him, who will judge this killer,
his guiltless liver, kidneys, fingertips and phallus?
