What Poets Know
May 14, 2021
Wrath, wrath, and flame!
The small and delicate creature
clutches me by the throat and
dares to ask if I am who I claim,
and I, powerless to speak, burst
into laughter and want to say if you
have been in love you’ll know how
to fall, senses alert to the height and
vicious feeling of a heartbeat in your
hands, but I can only repeat what
poets know, do not go gently into
Wrath, wrath, and flame!
It will become a way of being slowly
at first then written for all time as our
chests jut from the edge of stone one
arm straight to heaven and the other
to the boneyard where no fires burn
but still I hold the sword while you
slide into song and the crows weep as
love you’ll find only grows old in the
Wrath, wrath, and flame!
