Robert (by Milton Acorn)

I fell in love with this poem when I was 15. More than 30 years later, it’s still one of my all-time favourites. More people should know it; that’s why I’m posting it here.
(Thanks, Milton)

Robert (for R. Rousil)

Milton Acorn

We haven’t written letters
not needing to remind ourselves
that he’s himself there
and I’m myself here.

Once we went over each other
like with rough hands, arguing
for every hard corner of a reason
stuck out on each of us.

But that each was each we agreed
and because we were two … one.

We actually met once, since;
he wrinkled up a grin, I nodded
we said hello.

We haven’t written letters
Not needing to remind ourselves
that the things we do make roots
sucking sweet water.
Like he’s a tree out there
I can stretch out to lean on.
He won’t move.