Five Quatrains on Disappointment

There is no deal with the demon
that visits at night,
armèd with a precise measure
of my and his worth

He prevents slumber and would prod
me, tired as I am
to some awful action or thought-
I resist his goad.

One would rather sleep, for the day
abounded with work.
He will not be denied. He says:
(Or at lest I hear)

"No new theory ? No great ideas ?
You were promising,
they said. Well, maybe they were wrong.
You could be a fake.

Sham, failed hope, flash in the pan, lie:
these words are about you"
I nod. He is right. I am tired.
Life disappoints all.

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