The Mourner’s Plague
The core of my love
was so injured last evening,
I began to burn the candles
and take a pin-ray of their Sun
to pierce my mourner’s veil.
“It’s gone! It’s gone!” I said of poison
that flamed a moody wound,
in hope a wax-fed light
could ban the dark venom.
Then in crept the Night with a humid air
to condense upon my heart,
and slide in drops of blood to jell
a lamp without a wick.
Dennis Fredrick Evans
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