Sue,
I do and don't, this starts out with a bounce and then slows too soon.
The tempo keeps the reader looking until the tempo drops.
Could be me, very probably is me.
I do like it but.
Lynn
----- Original Message -----
From: "Sue Scalf" <[log in to unmask]>
To: <[log in to unmask]>
Sent: Thursday, January 16, 2003 4:06 PM
Subject: new poem: Dark Night
> I would appreciate your comments. I am working on this for the Insomnia
> contest which has the subject "Night."
>
> Dark Night
>
> In a real dark night of the soul it is always three o'clock in
the
> morning..
> F. Scott Fitzgerald, "The Crack-Up" (1945)
>
> Night slips its noose around the heart.
> The mind snaps open, questions what?
> Shadows pool on the stairs.
>
> No one answers. Mirrors stare.
> A streetlight reveals a halo, stark,
> cold. Nothing stirs
>
> or lives or cares. Remember then
> the last cruel thing you said.
> Remember then your mother's face
>
> thin as a hatchet, the spirit fled.
> Stench of flowers, an organ's piety,
> pity for ourselves who shall come to this.
>
> Remember a kiss, revel in it,
> wet, warm as sun.
> Remember your lover, friend,
>
> taken from your side.
> Know the loss, suck it dry, a lemon
> on the tongue. Then close your eyes.
>
> A twig scratches, a night bird complains,
> a small hopeful thing,
> the first sign of dawn, a stir of wings.
>
> Sue Scalf
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