Rage
To Dylan Thomas
By Tatiana Pahlen

The sad day has settled down
Shutting its tired lids.
Twilight lurks without sound
Weaving the stars with beads.

Sudden explosions of fallen comets
Cut the sky tracing flesh and blood
Filling void with brush and palette,
Swiping sweat on the blank.

Then page, after page . . .
The last tear from the candle
Was whipped by the rising light,
Soothing rage against the nightfall ramble
Stamped on my pallid face.
I'm not going gentle into that good night!

January 22, 1995

© 2001 Tatianyc. All Rights Reserved.