Y. Hirshon
Untitled
he stands by the blue pipe sill
cutting this umbilical
and burying terracotta.
he wears the grey face
so calmly
and looks from side to side.
when you came to me with marigolds
in your hands
i bled this organ for you.
in a pastille package
of bluer chords.than his.
and i loved you.yesterday
when you were barefoot yellow
and you shone.
in me.
but now these locks are lost
and flaming on the red linoleum.
i am naked.
i can see my lines.
my thoughts of you have gone away.
like the eastern pollen winds
on my bare isle.
Page(s) 166
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