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anniversary poetry

meu filho está inoperante e eu sou cortina indo
algum queixou-se ao mestre
o mistério o mais escuro, o mais estranho
quando eu retornei no por do sol
este é o arsenal
quando as horas do dia forem numeradas
vivido pelo river-side
sob a folha dusky do laurel
eu fui acima e trago as ruas
acima dos prados ricos com milho
sombras voadas que varrem perto
levantou-se e o âmbar era o por do sol no rio
behold mim, em meus chiffon, gauze e ouropel

 



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