ENTOURAGE
Hoo-hoo! The rabble
basting
blasted folk in multiplicity
hustled before you, blessed like
the wit
with grains for each square of
the chess floor.
Those acquainted with you cannot
expect more.
Ruined as cosmonauts, all else
afterwards is a bore.
Rarely the cataclysms of the
parade
I am shyly dull in your room
gassed, and masked, by your
perfume,
tinny and with my chintzy serenade
debunked of volume.
What transport if I crowded your lips,
if I were bade!
St-Lambert, circa 1983.
No comments:
Post a Comment