"Midnight" by George Bascom

 $Unique_ID{AST00201}

$Title{Midnight}

$Author{Bascom, George S., M.D.}

$Subject{poetry}

$Journal{}

$Volume{}

$Date{1982}

$Log{}

                                 LATE ASTERS

                                  Midnight

I am tired,

And here tonight

I see the hard distinction.

The unrelenting senses

To which my life is given--

They are not poetry.

Pallid, sweaty shock,

The iron claw of pain,

The slimy tyranny of nausea

Are too imperative.

Tonight I am too tired.

I cannot take such rawness

And transform it into verse.

The clotted wound drips blood,

Pain groans all loveliness away

Forbidding me the disrespect

Of clever lines.