The New Book of Hymns

Hymn to the Anemone

Of all my lovers, my time with you was shortest.

Though moments it felt like you were my last, and every and first.

For every day with you, I was born anew.

Don't cry, my goddess.

You plead, barely a whisper.

I may see darkness but I'll never stop chasing you.

Yet the fury would choke me.

With bile and tears.

Were we no better than malice and envy?

You will keep living, if only in memory.

If only as the anemone, an angry red where you bleed.

If only to chase the sun and fall back to dusk.

Yet someday Adonis, I hope you'll catch me.