If Our mad dances slow to dirges
And the dark barges in on the stars,
If yours and mine is Ours no more
And shy, pale-faced reminders sigh
Behind the back door a-nights, then
I shan’t write another word for you,
Nor for me, nor Us, nor anyone.
If Our wild eyes and frisky paws
Are stilled into purposeful tools,
And Our twittering, jabbering jaws
Lock up in the great presence of fools,
Then I will shut up my heart’s blood
Inside some useless pen. I will forget
What We were - what you have been.
I will charge myself with this heaviest
Of oaths: when We are no more alight
And the stars still shine,
And the flowers blossom,
And new babies are born,
And the pointless world still shakes with joy,
Then I shall write no more.
For when We are not, what happiness
Is there more than a choked off laugh
In a silent void?