Saturday, June 03, 2006


To Her Father's Lover

Wonders seek way from hard, heartless tones
and stronger strangling laws that bid me stare
as weight of sleep hangs on mind twice depressed:
my only love lay on her father's chest.

I stare, blame, with all futile strength
espoused to filmsy flames of some sealed settled woe
betide. Twice reclined moan. She's laid there spread:
it confounds thought from lately tired head.

What do I say when sand fills the mouth
and rote replaced by nods to earlier claims?
Drum rolls away for the dark drapes drawn
to fast forestall a well deserved dawn!

You talk of love, despise my noble fear
to rid this smell since now more tears appear.

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