5203 Narrow throats swallowing bitter anguish

And yes, I worry 

That your light, 

My body, 

Can't get through 

When the dark 

Clouds threaten 

With morning and afternoon 

Temporary rain.

In the macabre festival 

Of pain 

That opened that night, 

I waited for you with eagerness, 

I must have been the mountebank

That bites daggers.

There are in me 

A thousand narrow throats 

Swallowing bitter anguish.

And yes, I worry 

That your light, 

My body, 

Can't get through 

When the dark 

Clouds threaten 

With morning and afternoon 

Temporary rain.