In Vain

Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem

“All the rivers run into the sea; yet the sea is not full” ~ Ecclesiastes 1:7

His heart was not quite written on the lake

Of loss, lost memory, or upon the sea

Of salt forgetfulness, but in the wake

Of cutter pain his mind forgot the quay

Where hope had sailed from.  In the toss of foam

Too white for telling truth, his heart could write

The ancient messages that every dome

Religion builds must hide, that truth which might

Be séanced back again, again, again

As long as love in torture carries on.

The veins and arteries caress the pain

In hopes that it may rise in Venus’ dawn.

  Those veins are clotted with the curls and black

    Of hair.  He knows that love will not come back.

©  Phillip Whidden