- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Dark Ends of the Day
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At the dark ends of the day I burn dim lamps
to bathe my face in the refractions of an empty page.
This eucharistic light, these cigarettes, quieten me,
though candles never yet raised a corpse.
But if I should sleep the pasts close in,
heavier than blankets, more stiffling than Summer,
from which world I return haggard
as from the Harrowing of Hell.
So each cigarette is my prayer (should God exist)
to let me rest or let me write,
while the shape in the bed mumbles, “Come and sleep”,
and my body trembles at the summons of my Queen.
But the King must answer his endless question,
“Sit I thus upon my throne and cannot rule my page?”
And remaining here unanswered, give paternity’s suit,
“Lord of all I don’t perceive, receive me now.”
- COMMENTS
buttersover 14 years agooooh, I like this. Has Shakespearian tones to it for me. Once again the clarity of your imagery catches me up from line one, my ears follow sounds as they step forward, hesitate, linger ... your writing always always always makes me think. I'd question the use of quite so much punctuation, believing the line breaks strong enough here to do the job some of the time, but that's a matter of personal preference only. Very strong write, and once more you take us by the hand to lead us into an emotional, but not maudlin, work. Lighting casts all manner of shadows in this one.
in the end, it all comes down to the glowing cigarette end and the page, and that question of how we are bound by what we create or strive to.
