The dark wood after the dark wood: the cold after cold in April's false November. In that second worser place: more gone, less there, but in that lurid present present, cast and held, rooted, kept, like some old false-berried yew. Just against; the door leading to preferment shut; no longer believing in still, by some, few means, method, could be, but for the bad day set, left, leaning atop bad day. Out- and un- ranked, toothached, wronged— rankled corruptive thing! Ill-wishing, in-iquitous, clipped, up-hoped, stripped: just plain: thin. Dare thy commit: commit this final fatal sin: God my God, I am displeased by spring.
Copyright © 2014 by Olena Kalytiak Davis. Used with permission of the author. This poem appeared in Poem-A-Day on April 9, 2014. Browse the Poem-A-Day archive.