Love Divine, All Loves Expelling
When you were killed by lightning (yes, by God
Himself—Herself, perhaps), voltage struck
The Shenandoah River where that odd
Thing, God’s strange love, took Charles. It ran amok
That afternoon beneath the blackened sky,
That bleak Levitical cloud from where S/He
Sent you, lungs boiled, to death in somewhat sly
Arrangements, love by mystical decree
From wisdom high above. Death ate my eyes
Then, so I cannot see the prudence of
This act, so now S/He cannot hypnotize
Me. Mesmerism cannot make this Love
A thing of beauty. Everything that once
Was lovely died beyond this blinded dunce.
Death Ate my Eyes
I cannot see now since my eyes were gulped
By God. Before He did that, I could see.
I saw much ugliness before He pulped
It with His fangs, His lightning. I am free
Of ugliness. My blindness gives that gift.
His chomping also swallowed beauty, though.
That moment when He killed him made the rift
Between my dual vision and the woe
Of seeing nothing. Even foulness might
Be welcome but the foulness of his death
Has wiped that out. I see an utter night
Where once cold dawns might show his asthmaed breath.
..I shouldn’t gripe. At least his death killed foul
….Things. Loveliness is now an unseen howl.