PRESENTIMENT

Stringiness
and  a long, long 
day . . .
Not day as it once was.
Obsolete day,
with feelings of night
all through,
and touches of torment.
Damocles knew,
and all he could do
was look up,
and there it was.
This is more subtle-
a touch of something . . . anything . . .
eyes, words, smoke,
love.
All having length
and meaning,
misshapen, grotesque.
Come, you will know, too.
Stand here while they carve
red wounds in the evening sun
and watch rivers of pain
flow down upon our heads.

			Lucille Hamilton