broken heart poem

for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
musing, between the sunset and the dark
let us pity those who are better off than we are
to come so soon to this imagined dark
there is an hour of peaceful rest
not from the whole wide world
i gazed upon the glorious sky
in new york harbor
i stood
perhaps it is no matter that you died
i burn no incense
night is dark, and the winter winds
the lightning flashed, and lifted
i went up and down the streets