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."