On the Sixth Day the Word Is Taken from Me Poem

because I did not love it enough,
and let it grow bitter in my mouth
because I loved it too much
and ate and ate and found it sweet
because I killed it while it was still living
and wrapped it round my throat
and bade it keep me warm
it kept me warm
when it should have been a window
I threw open to the cold
because I feared the cold
mistook it for absence
and so missed
the starry field

Lisa Beskin
first published in jubilat 2, Fall/Winter 2000