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