Poem: Letters from home

Your ravishments

dear heart,

are the bane of my existence and its 

sole supports;


Some thirty summers have I pledged my faith

in utter servitude 

upon the altar of your infidel love;


My candle is burnt at both ends

and I wax lyrical

in the expiring shadows of your waning moon.  















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from Burnt Offerings, 1996 




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