of E.E. Cummings' "Tulips and Chimneys"
Riffing from the lines, "the Cambridge ladies who live in furnished souls / are unbeautiful and have comfortable minds"
the lawyers downtown like to drink
after work, relax from the noise
and neediness of a day. In suits
they all look the same: managed,
eager gentlemen, so much of them
is the south. Even when they walk
there's rhythm, heads slightly turned
down. And they are all always serious
about their face--except for one. Though
his head is bent, he is smiling, maybe
carrying a laugh. Unusually young
in his Irish-red beard, I find the paleness
of his skin a little harsh. But the green
loving itself in his eyes looks like lost
islands under the ocean. And I want
to hear, to watch, the way his mouth
shapes around each syllable of my name.
No comments:
Post a Comment