Under the cover
of heavy odor—
Spring—
I would sit
long nights
with the Queen
of Calvary—
the White Gown—
Bride of Eternity—
the silence
which sang
in such a loud Whisper
of the calyx—
the bloom—
the logarithms
of a Star—
the Geometry
of Death—
should all
of Amherst
look away—
no Kiss
would I tender—
merely wait
at the window—
hoping
the hummingbird’s
surcease of Sorrow—
though—perhaps—
that is not
entirely true—
if the Moon
could find
her Cheek—
and I could be
he Moon—
I would brave
such discreet
and silent Ecstasy.
~William Hammett
Site Map
No comments:
Post a Comment