498
35
-I cannot feel myself God waits. He flies
nearer a kindly world; or he is flown.
One Saturday's rescue
won't show. Man is entirely alone
may be. I am a man of griefs
&
fits
trying to be my friend. And the brown smock splits,
down the pale flesh a gash
broadens and Time holds up your heart against my eyes.
36
-Hard and divided heaven! creases me. Shame
is failing. My breath is scented, and I throw
hostile glances towards God.
Crumpling plunge of a pestle, bray:
sin cross
&
opposite, wherein I survive
nightmares of Eden. Reaches foul
& '
live
he for me, this soul
to crunch, a minute tangle of eternal flame.
37
I fear Hell's hammer-wind. But fear does wane.
Death's blossoms grain my hair; I cannot live.
A black joy clashes
joy, in twilight. The Devil said
'I will deal toward her softly, and her enchanting cnes
will fool the horns of Adam.' Father of lies,
a male great pestle smashes
small women swarming towards the mortar's rim
In
vam.
38
I see the cruel spread Wings black with saints!
Silky my breasts not his, mine, mine to withhold
or tender, tender.
I am sifting, nervous, and bold.
The light
is
changing. Surrender this loveliness
you cannot make me do.
But
I will. Yes.
What horror, down stormy air,
warps towards me? My threatening promise faints-
