Berryman was a saint, not sinner
For inviting Henry in – he didn’t have
To do that – could have waited sickly
By the bridge to die. Before him others
Not unconnected doing the same
Then his friends – one by one
Not unlike the Ark got into it
And flung…them too angry to concede
That hope is a thing worth waiting for –
Amidst the miasma of drunken flirts
Henry came out on top. Still hurts.
