He loves her until tomorrow or until 12:15 AM when again he assumes the firedrake, ricochets from the walls in the exhaustion of kingship; somewhere in his skull the Bible's leaves seem turned by another's hand. The pool table's green felt is earth, ivory balls, people cracked toward leather holes. Christ's blood is whiskey. Light is dark. And light from a cave in whose furnace three children continue their burning. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A LINE-STORM SONG by ROBERT FROST MODERN LOVE: 34 by GEORGE MEREDITH WHEN THE FROST IS ON THE PUNKIN by JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY ALFRED THE HARPER by JOHN STERLING (1806-1844) CASSANDRA SOUTHWICK; 1658 by JOHN GREENLEAF WHITTIER TO THE CASTLE OF DONEGAL by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM |