The Starry Night

The town does not exist
except where the one black-haired tree slips
up like a drowned woman into the hot sky.
The town is silent. The night boils with eleven stars
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die.

It moves. They are all alive.
Even the moon bulges in its orange irons
to push children, like a god, from its eye.
The old unseen serpent swallows up the stars.
Oh starry starry night! This is how
I want to die.

into that rushing beast of the night
sycked up by that great dragon, to spit
from my life with no flag,
no belly,
no cry.

(From All My Pretty Ones, 1962)