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Weeds
PHILIP MURRAY
WEEDS
Too much wine!
I stood upon the table;
"Although I am Divine,
Iam unable."
* * *
The mirror did not reflect me.
Where had I gone?
Where was my beauty, my beauty?
The mirror yawned.
* * *
"I want at least the fiction of affection,"
I told the whore.
She said, "To lie in that direction
Will cost you more."
* * *
In a field I saw the Blessed Dead,
But they were weeping.
"Death has abandoned us," they said,
"There is no sleeping."