“I have stopped reading the last page of novels—
now the horse drags the rider down the lane
and through the sugarcane field
to the impossibly brown sea
and that’s where they stop, just short.
Now the sun turns to look.
I have stopped believing what’s next…
…Oh, little bird, abide with me
before the stars go out,
before the handle turns,
before the floorboards creak awake…”
Read the entire poem at Copper Nickel.