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Poem Written at the Sussex Hotel, London,04/04/04 After Death Threats

Because I have so little time, I only hope, for what is mine-- in my blood so dark and hot is a bright and fevered spot-- O let me be, to sing again without the penalty of pain, lest I, before my time, be torn from life, and to the grave be borne-- my nostrils full of soil, my ears stopp'd by grave and ritual tears-- O let me be, lest they will tread --my children-- on their mother's head before my song for them is done, before my course on earth is run, before they learn the song I sing: that love can conquer everything.
this poem is written in the shape of a funereal urn

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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