shall I read
now that twilight
has stolen up on the platform
stilling the flowers
stealing the gold that crept the length of the towers?
who shall I read?
a mystery will not quell my disquiet,
every one in history has died.
I am not so bold as to disturb
their slumber,
Shall I listen to the katydids and crickets?
Surely there is no evil in that symphony,
no wayward words
that have only the ring of truth
modulated by eyes
that shift back and forth
like butterflies catching at sunbeams
and shadows.
Shall I drift into sleep?
In each estuary I see you slowly undressing,
while the river makes small noises
as it drifts around the bent twigs
and falling leaves
until I am weary of the half I do not have.
an unquiet salve, that.
the murmur of voices threatening;
an isolated laugh.
Before the petals disperse,
much must be explained in Arden Forest,
before the last gasp of the light
the shadows die
and the owls ask questions of the night.
Malignant wights singing
in my head
drowning the easy words
with cruel fingers,
no, not sleep.
A game of Solitaire
where the meaning of victory
isn’t very clear. I shall watch the kittens play.
Perhaps later I’ll write a poem about fear.
Adding your comment:
I think this is one of the best poems that I have read tonight. I like all the questions you have and the way you answered them. I liked the first stanza best because I like the way you presented night falling. And I thought it was interesting with the way you questioned the meaning of winning solitare. It made me stop and think. Because I think you're right about what that actually implies. How strange. 
