BLACK SUNRISE

Because she's still asleep acrosss the room
on the darker side of my little earth,
where curtained night conceals the spreading blight
of our street, our city, and our whole race,
I cannot say my day dawns
outside, there in a strange distant place
that does not know the shivering
of her eyelids as she awakens,
fluttering like wings of small trapped birds.
Until she does awake, and smile -- or not,
I shall know no lifting of the darkness,
of any kind, from heart or blood or mind:
yes, even my eyes will deny the light.

The sun did not set gently,
but in sputtering rage plunged last night
into terrible emptiness,
leaving long shadows of spite and lies,
and ugly bruises on lovely face.
The streaks of blood that edge her kissful mouth
etch a sadness that rests uneasy there.
HER TOUCH IS ALL THAT BRAKES MY HELLWARD FALL.
Oh, what if she is not asleep, but ....?