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Hell to Pay


When the children are asleep and our old bed

Fills with the drama of your dreams, I head

Downstairs to double check the locks and pour

Neat bourbon down, just like I did before

I ever locked a door, back when I blazed by night

Through danger in a yellow whiskey light.

I am again the wildhearted and lonely,

To whom the angel will appear, the only

Angel I have known, who drags her wings

On dance hall floors while some bright jukebox sings

Of sadness gone too sweet, and I am caught

Up in the arms of all the feeling I have fought.

Against that torn mouth no kiss comes to bless,

I answer to the shame I canít confess,

The old wound coiled up bitterly in me,

The one your love relieves but cannot free.

Hers is the power of darkness, fierce, defiled,

To which fate led me willing as a child,

And though I kneel to love to serve each day,

I know in time there will be hell to pay.


Suzanne Doyle



© 1992 Suzanne J. Doyle.  Used by permission.

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