Upon the Eaves
Upon the eaves, tomorrow's eve,
Unfolding sorrow takes its leave,
In cresting night's arresting heart,
Protesting craven flight departs.
A raven flits from hope to hail,
Sweet remembered desolation,
When dissolute and dainty fare,
Fell to barren expectation.
In darkness cloaked, how Cotard's coat,
Devours the starlight years afloat,
Scudding clouds defacing sketches,
Heaven's poor prophetic etches.
Uplifted brief in cruciform,
Against the Scales my spirit stalls,
Then glancing upon Scorpio,
Long hours are lost in empty halls.
Upon the eaves, on morrow's eve,
Now sorrow folds within with ease,
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