Come on down. Miss Grey
I know you’ve met your grave
New home for bleak days –
Like ghosts and us
Hurry down our way –
You’ve nothing to do or say
And you never could wait to die
Open up that boxed memory for a moment or two
Know it as plague and shake it into experience
Joy and relief and not shudder or cold glance
Regress to that vague play
The dark rooms, creaking chairs and broken beds
Hide what bends you into madness from the eggs to the snakes
And the coilеd bones of her Satan’s in bags
Sevеr your vein from her heart
And let not this hopeless love
Pound out the juices of want
Within her grey company
Bring out those old photographs of black and white misery
Collecting the family dust she smears the poison
And clutches “The lake in the company of a swan”
So wake my woman, be seated in your chair
Carve the monster from your head
And let the brown blood clot up in your tangled hair
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