Poem Written At the Sussex Hotel, London,04/04/04 After Death Threats
Because I have so little time,
I only hope, for what is mine--
in my blood so dark and hot
is a bright and fevered spot--
O let me be, to sing again
without the penalty of pain,
lest I, before my time, be torn
from life, and to the grave be borne--
my nostrils full of soil, my ears
stopp'd by grave and ritual tears--
O let me be, lest they will tread
--my children-- on their mother's head
before my song for them is done,
before my course on earth is run,
before they learn the song I sing:
that love can conquer
everything.
this poem is written in the shape of a funereal urn
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