Sadness In The Starry Bog Poem by Stan Petrovich

In the torrid spring's turmoil
After my love, with her cerulean eyes
Pierced my heart with love,
And she abandoned me for another,
Whose marriage is forthcoming,
I walk the bog at night,
The sky alight with the stars that made me,
The carbon, nitrogen, molybdenum and all,
Starstuff ringing in my ears,
Starstuff forming my trenchant tears;
I could easily walk down into the watery grave
To save my life from eternal grief and sorrow:
But there still is tomorrow;
I peer at Orions' fuzzy belt
And turn softly home.
May she be happy as can be with him;
For I hold no prejudice,
For if she is satisfied it saves me the time,
Perhaps the time of my wretched life.
A nightbird calls; it's all I need to know,
It being nothing more than another star
Hidden in the bog,
Yet calling, calling my name
A sandy screech of terror
Reaching deeply into my gut
And then, in practice, avoiding my watery demise.