To See Him Again

Never, never again?

Not on nights filled with quivering stars,

or during dawn's maiden brightness

or afternoons of sacrifice?

Or at the edge of a pale path

that encircles the farmlands,

or upon the rim of a trembling fountain,

whitened by a shimmering moon?

Or beneath the forest's

luxuriant, raveled tresses

where, calling his name,

I was overtaken by the night?

Not in the grotto that returns

the echo of my cry?

Oh no. To see him again —

it would not matter where —

in heaven's deadwater

or inside the boiling vortex,

under serene moons or in bloodless fright!

To be with him…

every springtime and winter,

united in one anguished knot

around his bloody neck!