Reuben , Reuben – lonely Reuben –
Why must I always inhabit thee?
Share in your darkness, none can illumine,
A receptacle to all your misery?
My soul hath become a festering thing,
A tumour, demonic, that leaves me not,
This clotted throat no more can sing;
This unhappy heart has all else forgot,
But the corpuscular dimness that muddies these veins,
Drowning all joy, before its first breath,
Choked in its infancy – tutored by pain –
Gasping, bloodily, in its woof and weft,
And ever, oh ever, still I feel in this womb,
Those dead hopes – lying fetus-like – My body: a tomb