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The Spike or Victoria College Review 1947

New Departure

New Departure

When smoke has shot through floor cracks,
Through the vast
Ignominy of wasteful paradise,
I have cried a panic truce
Upon my spendthrift solitude.

When the bulb has bitten life
From the hard soil,
I have said a last goodbye
And turned to nourish
The green stalk with my barren flesh.

When a voice has crossed the counterpoint Of melodies,
Unmingled and risen opposing,
I have heard no more music
Only the lone voice striving to me.

If a ghost shall enter my room
And I find books
Unable to quell the questioner,
I will burn the lettered past
And break my will upon the ghostly future.

W. H. Oliver