The Lonely Poet 

I love the evening when the dark must lose its blue. 
I love the way the world just takes its time . . . 
There’s no one here to tell me what to do. 

Clouds and the moon play peek-a-boo; 
they come and go, then can’t be bothered trying.  
I love the evening when the dark must lose its blue – 

though sometimes there’s this squeak inside my shoe, 
it makes me stumble when I mean to rhyme. 
I wish there was someone could tell me what to do. 

I folded my wings before I flew, 
then wandered along behind the firing line, 
believing the sky would never lose its blue. 

And now I can see the sky has better things to do: 
it’s losing its faith in things divine, 
it’s done with the days of honey-dew. 

I don’t know where to start with missing you. 
I write a line and then I end up crying. 
There’s no one here to tell me what to do. 
I love the evening when the dark must lose its blue. 

Bill Manhire

Bill Manhire‘s last collection of poems, Wow, was published in 2020, and was a Poetry Book Society Selection. An interview subsequently appeared in PN Review. A recent collaboration with Norman Meehan and others, Bifröst, has been released by Rattle.