sullen collective

In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms,
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.

Dylan Thomas, from “In my craft or sullen art,” The Collected Poems of Dylan Thomas (New Directions, 2010)

Glass Coughs

O’Saint Christopher around your neck/the chain in your teeth/the sweat of sweat/in the back of your trunk, holds the candle sends the wax/sullen seed and blood collect/fold our hands to soon forget/what we’ve done and and what we had/what we’ve done and who we had/my glass coughs to spit black/baby, you’ll disappear/my glass coughs to spit black/I’ll disappear with you/I watched you drown an eye not used to flow/with Chris between your teeth/the dove on your collar/and we survived on I’s and You’s alone/while I could have been some poor soul’s father/what we’ve done and what we had/what we’ve done and who we had/my glass coughs to spit black/baby, you’ll disappear/my glass coughs to spit black/I’ll disappear with you/soft hangover/I’ll hangover/I’ll disappear with you