When he wrote and released this piece, just after his estrangement from his second wife, he commented that "there is a vague veil between alone and lonely". I understand this, and he expresses it well. The form is odd, the tone brutally depressed, but the piece...works.
In the Shadows of an Ancient City
pull back the flesh from o'er my bones
and throw them to the fire. I need them not
when mortal thought is vanquished by desire.
and I am cast in shadows, deep,
to sleep amidst the gloaming walls
made cold, laid bold and of a grade sold
to the barter beetles for victuals.
a spade, a trowel, throw in the towel
and mortar up the halls where wings
once beat the winds to find the sky
and found naught but a place to die.
William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.
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