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.