after Robert Frost
I have been one acquainted with the night.
I’ve watched the snuffing of the last blue light.
I’ve let the darkness gather, like a shawl
I drew around my shoulders, pulled it tight.
I breathed its fetid folds, fell in its thrall.
It fondled virgin soul. I didn’t fight.
I let it have its way, curled in a ball,
and aching, fell asleep beside its blight.
No light could penetrate inside that wall.
I woke in blankness, choking on my fright.
No nocturne, this. Abandoned, hurting, small,
I pilfered darkness’ pen, began to write.
Light leaked across the floor and down the hall.
I followed it and ran with all my might.
And sometimes still I hear its heavy call.
It bides, its anger jangling, in the night.
Jane Sasser was born and raised in Fairview, North Carolina. Her poetry has appeared in The Atlanta Review, The North American Review, The Sun, The Lullwater Review, Appalachian Heritage, The National Forum, Sow’s Ear, and numerous other anthologies and publications. She is the author of two poetry chapbooks, Recollecting the Snow and Itinerant. An English teacher at Oak Ridge High School, she currently resides in Oak Ridge, TN, with her husband George and rescue greyhounds.