hard rain and wind
against the plague house
I walk in so merry a company
I may die with laughing
where the plague grows
where desires make a rough freight
promise me night comes to pay
one day
Sat still his whole life…
at the last second–one arm
closer to the stars
Marchers gone home…
I watch steady storm spatter
take the concrete
Tenth week of the plague…
they pull down their masks
to talk over the dog
Beard to his belt
and one black boot halfway
onto the bus
Autumn of the heart…
if we’re all dead, who takes stock
of the curled leaves?
Lightbulb not like dawn,
To live on a sterile hill
Suits not my mood,
I'll walk in towns my fill,
With strong resisting blood.
There is no virtue in stark fear.
Whether it be of Sin or Death,
But there is pride in walking clear,
Through Plague's contaminating breath.