there will be nights like this with great fire
and you will be alone,
more alone then you have ever been
and you will be
entombed with the bodies of 1,000 dead soldiers
upon your shoulders

there will be nights knifing at the blackbirds
in the sky, love poems unfinished
but one too many

you will be alone with whatever is killing you
and your romantic reverie
will be that of your own