Cheeseman Park

The trees stand dim and single in this light of death Reflected from the planet of the dead, As though they held their random breath In tainted dread.

The stone Memorial glows, a livid, sentient ghost, And Denver’s myriad dwellings, roofed with light, Protect a cataleptic host Against the night.

From Greenland to the Land of Flame the earth is calm; A timeless peace succeeds the crude tattoo Through one unnoticed drop of balm In the witches’ brew.