Grapes, lilacs, olive-shoots-- like arrows
in a shower up my spine. What strange bouquet
inscribes your presence, phantom Rose!
We'll two by two now--travel in a ray.
& O how amiable it is-- your swallow's nest;
I'll be a doorkeeper by day, O threefold
arch-- your bosom's ward--& [skip the rest]--
bail milky cataracts from a footstool scaffold.
& at the nadir of midwinter sun
we'll stand in uniform beneath the Admiralty:
him, myself & thee. We'll form a union,
manifold with evening marble from the sea--
three musky tears tri-welded bands of steel--
true counterparts-- & all in all --is real!
Henry Gould | Island Road 70
Contents | Mudlark No. 6