Faustus
The spell was broken. All that evil lay in shards
on the floor: unseasonable scarves
shed, unruly, along the backs of furnitures
Once-fiery little stones cooled and quenched underwater
each incantation unsung, each
dance undanced as if they'd never been
danced and sung. Exhortations
into the river flung
while on the banks the reeds
hiss-dress and kiss like departing lovers. Va!
Bards, dear, are not to be taken so easily.
Goodness has finally won
at the cost of so much sweat and candle-sheen;
from this known cosmos everywhere withdrawn
the keening demons of yore-never to return.
Never? Then why that path of stars
sowed, conveniently, to guide back tired feet-
those wailing demons that disdain defeat.
poem by Morgan Michaels
Added by Poetry Lover
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