ESKIMO PIE
I 3h!'lll
never pretend
to have forgotten
such loves as those
that turned the dying
brightness at an end of
a
child~
afternoon into
preludes To an evening of
lamplight To
a
night dark
with blanketing To mornings
of more and more There deep
in the old ruralities of play
the frosted block with papery
whisps still stuck to it kissed
me burningly as it arose out of
dry icy stillnesses And there now
again
I
taste First its hard then
i~s
soft Now
I
am int o the creamy
treasure which to have t asted is to
have begun to lose to the heat of a
famished sun But
0
if
I
break faith
with you poor dreadful popsiclB may
my mouth forget warm rains a tongue
musty Pauillac cool skin all tastes
I
see
sweet
drops
slide
along
a hot
stick
It
is
a
sad
sorry
taste
which
never
comes
to an
end
