Romance (Poem)

Poetry —

Romance

That cat I killed last night
(The aftermath of rage spent on you)
Lay stiff, cast off,
When I hastened back to you.

It thought the journey safe;
My fierce beam
Caught it starry eyed
Captured with the light.

The act was quick and sudden;
Painless was my wake.

How unlike this kind deed
Is our romance.

We bite and tear
As love unwinds to lust.
Dragging our wants
Through alleys of guilt.

We’ll bear our hate
In silent stares.
Towards this cruel culmination
We cart our long affair.

— John Coyne (Ethiopia 1962-64)