Michael H. Levin
Vampyr
(After Keats)
Why do you quake
and clench your teeth
good sir—spring’s here,
and green’s the heath
gorse flowers bloom
bright warblers call
a thrush flutes clear
notes over all
yet shivering
you stare as one
who cannot see
and stumble clumsily.
This fever’s not
to season true—
pray tell, what may
be plaguing you?
***
I dreamed last night
a fearful scene:
cold seas rose up
but boiled with steam
and in their midst
a figure stood
with fiery hair
coat caked with mud
both fat and tall
he stalked the land
demanding fealty
out of hand
and bellowed that
he was the One
at volumes great
enough to stun—
had come to bring
a new age in
where greed roams free
and hate just grins.
About him forms
much lesser bowed
and chorused their
small praise-songs loud
discarding oaths
and pledges past
for fear; or gain
they thought would last.
They trampled on
the vineyards; on
that place where laws
are stored: foregone
restraint or shame
displaced by
winning at all costs.
While he with yawps
glared round for those
who might dissent
and palmed bright coins
behind his back
and christened lies
as stone-cut fact.
And when I dared
to differ—was attacked.
He seized me with
one paw (a dainty snack)
and stuffed me in
then swole me down
and laughed to feel
me wriggling whole.
Now ask you why
I walk in night,
breathe heavy when
May air blows light?
I’ve seen the shadow
End of Days, where
harmony has died
brute grievances collide
and courtiers
stand by slyly
hungry-eyed
Michael H. Levin is the author of the poetry collections Man Overboard (Finishing Line Press, 2018) and Watered Colors (Poetica Publishing, 2014). His work has appeared in Gargoyle Magazine, Adirondack Review, and Crosswinds, among other journals and anthologies. Levin works as an environmental lawyer and solar energy developer, and lives in Washington DC. See michaellevinpoetry.com.
SUBMIT to What Rough Beast via our SUBMITTABLE site.