Panic

She says she cannot sleep, when he's away,

Until her eyes are burning in her head

With too much reading. When he's here she'll say

Goodnight quite happily, and comforted

And smiling drift to sleep. It's desolate

To be without him when it is so late.

She'd like to pray more easily to God,

For life that seemed so safe is suddenly

Cut loose and drifting like a milk-weed pod;

And she is frightened as she used to be

When she was little, and the dark was more

Than dark, and there were things behind the door.