Once again recluse at the haunt,
and nothing but the wind’s howl
on a moonless night interrupts—
the silence’s perpetual pry.
Once again at the window sobs,
from the door\'s gap wind stalk,
to detract my candle in the dark—
as icicles clump—in
a heart-pent.
Once again on the gallows of silence
hung—
in the motionless— dark,
choked,
the pulse, to soothe—
in dreams sunk,
a cricket song, brawling afar—
marching— intone flux,
mounting the breeze-soft.
And the bones chafed, perturbed,
as the desert’s cold fall,
dither grow,
tremulous,
death lust?
await— yet nothing comes.