The town does not exist
except where one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die.
It moves. They are all alive
Even the moon bulges in its orange irons
to push children, like a god, from its eye.
The old unseen serpent swallows up the stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die:
into that rushing beast of the night,
sucked up by that great dragon, to split
from my life with no flag,
no belly,
no cry.
YOU ARE READING
A Collection For Those Who Enjoy Poetry
PoetryThis is just a book of poetry. Some people really like just reading poems, and that's what this is. Some are by me, but some are just my favorite poems from other authors. All of whom I will credit in the separate chapters. If you're into that kind...
