Endless

Sisyphus must have his rock, Prometheus,
That god-damned bird, and I must face the
Setting sun afraid that she has changed
Her mind, or that the signs of her affection,
Seen, I thought, by light of day, were not,
And, now that it is night, I see more clearly.
I was wrong, or premature, and, come the
Morning, in the fashion of those Greeks,
I'll roll the stone. I'll wait to be eviscerated
Once again, a fool intent upon a woman
With a paramour in sight, and nothing more
For me than friendly banter. She is not
In love, but I will heave, will bear my gut,
Do all I can to come home certain of what
Proves so doubtful in the dark.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 74 times
Written on 2014-11-19 at 05:35

dott Save as a bookmark (requires login)
dott Write a comment (requires login)
dott Send as email (requires login)
dott Print text