Mulberry And Main

Mulberry and Main

His shadow may be either one,
a blessing or that dread design
which rattles when the day is done,
and turns to chaff the final line.

His shade who in the alley fades,
when preyed upon by jaded eye,
shall work again those fatal trades
which age and waste intensify.

His phantom chanting at the moon,
recanting with erratic tongue,
shall stake his chances late or soon
on those in trance he walks among.

His trembling spectral hand extends
to own what strangers deign to give,
for charity which condescends,
and pity which will not forgive.

His shadow may be either one,
a blessing or that dread design
of demon drunk from love, undone
by damaged fruit on ravaged vine.