The Unbeloved Night

The streets are all deserted, the star-light glimmers bleak,
This night has been perverted by a love grown faint and weak.
On trails I wander softly and await the joy I’m due
And though it haunts me awfully: I will not come home to you.

The moon is high and hated while our sorrow paints the night,
The future I’ve created now a monstrous thing of fright.
Past minutes stretch to hours, and thinner yet to years
Through the dimness that devours I see lifetimes fade to tears.

All the love I have not given, the lies I have not told,
Are nails too quickly driven through the marrow of my soul.
Now these shadows have grown stronger for the light I left with you,
And though the night grows longer I know dawn is coming too.

Beautiful Plague

The roses are choking the oats in the field,
To dahlias the rain-riven okra must yield;
Begonias have swollen and stunted the wheat,
These soft-scented petals hold nothing of meat.

The peaches have blossomed but set no new fruit,
In westerly furrows impatiens take root;
The hounds in their kennel lay mewling or dead –
On puffy chrysanthemum florets they fed.

The carrots, the turnips, once neat in their row,
Now twisted and withered where snapdragons grow;
The daisies, the tulips, alive and alight
Are scourges more stinging than mildew or blight.