suicide poetry

over the river, on the hill
i went up and down the streets
before the solemn bronze saint
all day to watch the blue wave curl and break
i saw him once before
the body may confine
the lightning flashed, and lifted
there is no flock, however watched and tended
i have known the silence of the stars and of the sea
a very remarkable history this is
but i cannot read you now
here falls no light
when you come tonight