Bitterer than Blue Dreams
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse
I sleep with one black perfect curl beneath
My pillow. It belongs to love. Below
My blond, blond head this curl is like a wreath
Of mourning. Blackness almost has a glow
There hidden in my bed. The gloss of hair
Sequestered underneath my nightmares tries
To turn them into dreams without a snare.
An ancient teacher who was marble wise
Gave Alexander his own marked up scrolls
Of Homer. Alexander put a knife
Beside them there beneath his war tent poles
And headrest. Lines and blade performed as wife
Who gave instruction and provided guard
Against sly murder. They were keen and hard.