black poetry

last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
once this soft turf
babylon-where i go dreaming
are you alive?
gone before us
dear wife
she might have known it in the earlier spring
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
when, full of warm and eager love
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
have you heard
lady, your heart has turned to dust