Nefaste

To stop the dark­ness lean­ing in
I drop the blinds
And shut the win­ter out, but not the mood:

Still starv­ing for a wider woe,
I’ve swal­lowed all
The empti­ness out­side the house, need more

Than gulfs where galax­ies dis­ap­pear,
A void so per­fect
The heart’s ham­mer breaks on nothingness.

There I might rest, or else con­fess
I never can,
Ill-omened and for­ever malcontent.

 

 

 





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John Alfred Tay­lor holds a BA from Mis­souri Uni­ver­sity, a MA and a Ph.D. from State Uni­ver­sity of Iowa. He taught at Wash­ing­ton & Jef­fer­son Col­lege, and is now Pro­fes­sor Emer­i­tus. Over the years he’s had poems in Kayak, the South­west Review, the Kenyon Review, New Let­ters, West Branch, and many other magazines.