“The Black Snow”
The black snow fell,
But why, none could tell.
Down, it fell;
Down, on the gates and temples;
Down, on the ice-clogged rivers;
Down, so soft,
Like the touch of a monster
That knows how to woo.
Where are the footprints?
Where has the traffic gone?
The autos lie abandoned.
The clouds obscure the Sun.
My tread piles drifts before me;
I leave an ashen track.
I fear the silent, black-eyed crows
That stare upon my back.
Down, it fell,
And in the square, alone, I waited.
The birds had long since flown;
The black snow fell as fated.
Then,
Death came to me,
Ravishing was she,
With lips of black,
And eyes of clover,
And skin as white as the cliffs of Dover.
“Come,†said she,
“It’s time to die.
Don’t cry,
There’s nothing left to cry for.
You are the last;
It’s time to fall,
You stupid race who stood so tall.â€
I choked, then sputtered,
Strained, but muttered.
And then,
“What did we lack?†I cried.
“We had the heart to free the Slaves,
We had the brains to gain the Moon,
We had ancestors,
We had rites,
We had the Cross to guard our knights.
What could we do,
What could we say,
To make the black snow melt away?â€
She smiled in mirth, but grave remained:
“It’s in the Monster’s blood you’re stained;
Your knights did win,
Your hearts did pour,
Your brains hath craft a mighty Door,
To the Future you now stand before.â€
“What Monster did we slay
To lead us this fell way?â€
“You slew the Poet,†said she.
“You thought he looked like me.â€
“A monster was he?â€
“The worst – sweet soul of misery,
His flesh enchained by Agape,
You could not bear his whiter day,
A snow of truth and gods at play.
“You chose Logic, you chose Meat,
You singed his Reason with your heat.
He cursed you not; you drew your blade:
You knew he’d judge the world you’d made.
“The Poet is a Monster, friend,
His claws are sharp and made to rend
Your preconceptions, brainy vice,
And fill your bestial veins with ice.
“Your nerves recoiled,
‘There must be more!’
You screamed,
…And opened up the Door.â€
I fell then to my knees, in soot:
“Oh God or gods that be, I pray
Have mercy on our race this Day.
It is not meet children should pay
For slaughtering the Poet fey.
“He came to conquer, came to smash,
To lay our dreams beneath the lash,
Man needs Logic! Man needs Meat!
Man needs soil beneath his feet!
â€The truth and gods should suffer heat;
All things are seasonal, ‘tis meet
To romance Change and not be fleet;
Man cannot Merely spirit eat…â€
I looked up then, and Death was gone,
The black snow fell, the sky was wan.
The crows were flying, heading North,
And in my veins the chill poured forth.
I have seen Death’s onyx lips,
I have felt her fingertips.
In quietus the slate’s wiped clean…
…I’d prayed the God of Hallowe’en!