Hilary Poem by James Browning Kepple

Your gypsy fiddle breaks the night
howls through the eaves a torrid tear,
and bemoans to us in the acrid lure of summer
another morning, another cascade of the strings,
leaves us hungry tortured dreamless beings,
and we wander off into the wilderness blind,
searching for your succulent sound in ear

for we are greedy, we are desperate for a taste,
we wish to milk your pale skin of its ode,
take you down from your heavenly night throne
and worship you with our animal maul and teeth
for you have led us in siren an infected beast,
and for you to leash, we come ever hither
we shall wander blind through the darkest of times

and for you we take in the coal of virginia
for your children we shall hold a land aside,
and you keep playing so tender and meticulous
that we mustn't rest till we hear your sweet song,
and we shall sit at your threshold meek and latent,
satiated, gregarious and consumed by your melodies,
for this sweet hilary is where you must end your violin

and I can go in
go forward into you as rapid locusts in nile,
a heat born of such profound temperature
that we shatter the earth around us, our simple human flesh shudders,
and we thunder great cries of fire, together we scream our music,
and a muse and a queen share in pristine elegy
once upon a time, over and over, until we fall, exhausted

intertwined, sweaty, and you pick up your bow
to lead me astray
this way is how I need you
for my loins beg for your embrace
and all I have to do is listen in the night
for that bit of gypsy fiddle
and you know I'm yours on the way