A cold night and a cold moon
And a cold wind, emaciated.
Laps the black water on the hard shore
As if some huge monster waited—waited,
Slow sucking its chops, satiated.

I walk naked and alone,
My soul shorn of its warm wrapping,
While doubt and despair roil up
To clutch at my knees and blind my eyes with tears—
And always my ears are full of this monstrous slow lapping.