Andrew P. McClain
Port Clyde, Maine
June 27th, 1917

For Joshua  E. Madison

The foghorn’s mournful note
Spares us not a second hope
Carted off the vast legions of romance
And buried them in a creed of hellfire

The black waters have sprung open
Unleashed a hellish vendetta
Locked away these sly affairs
Highly revered in our fondest memories

Still we had our pristine April
Clung tight to its gracious bloom
Fell backwards in its vast array
And reveled in each other’s luminous comfort

The heart of me
Burns madly for your rustic frame
My spirits flock to our day of acquaintance
Withheld by cruelty, in the shadows of night

Hold to life
As you speed for your glory
Your bayonet bathed in sunlight
Slaughtered adversaries, strewn all around

Hold to life
In the deafening crackle of machines
The thunderous slam of hailing death
And ranks of grey, plotting your cold demise

Return unto me
Whole and draped in heroism
With an aura of pride
Shamelessly flocking to the warmth of my embrace

But rage shall not permit us
With torches and pitchforks heaven bound
Fate presses you upon another
My fair sibling, light of my father’s eye

After falsehood settles
And lunar phase, lays her to rest
Find me
Crafting these heartfelt psalms
Lingering for the edge of seeming eternity

I have a very peculiar obsession with this time period.. (Note: this poem is about a closeted gay couple if you didn’t figure that out already)