To-morrow & To-morrow & To-morrow

sweeter things compiled

in the wreckage of night; to-morrow
quickens in the marrow of your bones,

valiant copulation; the red curve
of this – all this – the tasting of the

newer day, and of her face sylvan in
the dusk. Of all lights lengthening

across his brow to form a path
of mustering – a younger man

muttering, his breath tasting of
the west – had it been here,

or hereafter that he held her
in broken arms? Pulling fingers

underneath her skull and untying
the braided knot of her brow

in the yearning of stolen moments
before the roar of fury and sound.