Poetry

Last Night

John Whitworth

(The italicised lines are the title of a book by Terence Blacker about his friend, Willy Donaldson.)

 

Last night I took my life apart

And threw it on the fire.

I stirred the ashes of my heart

Still smouldering on the pyre

And heard a voice within the fire

Cry out in bitterness:

You cannot live as I have lived

And not end up like this.

 

Last night I measured out my days

And hid them in the earth.

I measured them a thousand ways

Weighing what they were worth

And heard a voice beneath the earth

Cry out from the abyss:

You cannot live as I have lived

And not end up like this.

 

Last night I bundled up my past

And lugged it to the lake.

Such a sad farce from first to last

And such a big mistake!

I whispered to the listening lake

As cruel as a kiss:

You cannot live as I have lived

And not end up like this.

 

Prince, are you there? The thickening air

Begins to smoke and hiss:

You cannot live as I have lived

And not end up like this.