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See me!

My hair is dripping with nectarStarlings carry it

On their black wings.

See, at last

My arms and my hands

Are lying idle.

How can I tell

If I shall ever love you again
As I do now?

NAKED

NAKED

What fool would feel

His cheeks burn

Because of the snow?

Would he call it

By a name, give it
Breasts, features,
Bare limbs?

Would he call it

A woman?

(Surely then he would be

A fool.)

And see her,

Warmed with the cold,

Go upon the heads
Of creatures

Whose faces lean
To the ground?

Would he watch

The compassion of

Her eyes,

That look, now up

Now down,

To the turn of

The wind and

The turn of

The shivering minds
She touches-

Motionless-troubled?

I ask you

I ask you, my townspeople,

What fool is this?

Would he forget

The sight of

His mother and

His wife

Because of her?

Have his heart

Turned to ice

That will not soften?

Naked

What!

Would he see a thing

Lovelier than

A high-school girl,

With the skill

Of Venus

To stand naked

Naked on the air?

Falling snow and

you up there waiting.

MARRIAGE

So different, this man.

And this woman:

A stream flowing

In a field.

APOLOGY

Why do I write today?

The beauty of

The terrible faces

Of our nonentities

Stirs me to it:

Colored women Day workers,

Old and experienced,

Returning home at dusk

In cast-off clothing,

Faces like

Old Florentine oak.

Also

The set pieces

Of your faces stir me

Leading citizens:

But not

In the same way.

SUMMER SONG

Wanderer moon,

Smiling

A faintly ironical smile

At this brilliant,
Dew-moistened

Summer morning

A detached,

Sleepily indifferent

Smile,

A wanderer's smile

If I should

Apology

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