Heard in the Night
Who wrestled with a god on the dark stairs?
For was it not the desperate trample and scuff
Of feet on uneven stone, the lurch of hurled
Bodies and harsh gulp of breaths we caught
Half the night through? And whose was the form
That violently careered down an invisible
Turn and thumped hollowly to sprawled silence?
For was it not the desperate trample and scuff
Of feet on uneven stone, the lurch of hurled
Bodies and harsh gulp of breaths we caught
Half the night through? And whose was the form
That violently careered down an invisible
Turn and thumped hollowly to sprawled silence?
Did the sure-eyed one burn there above,
Looking disdain upon his broken, slumped
Antagonist; or did the other, his beating
Flesh bared through rents in his stained shirt,
Loom unsteady in the exulting air
Over a wreck of pinions and huge limbs?
Looking disdain upon his broken, slumped
Antagonist; or did the other, his beating
Flesh bared through rents in his stained shirt,
Loom unsteady in the exulting air
Over a wreck of pinions and huge limbs?