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| William Mortensen 'A Romany maid' 1935 |
every Spring
i am seed inside
her belly womb cloud
i am seed inside
her belly womb cloud
to ground clover rain
she whispers
the beneath of things
little parasols
smiles that find
where bright mushrooms hide
she makes me laugh
cheek bones climbing
i bow to every plant she does
when she isn't looking
in me a poet goes
what kind of shoes
does she wear
what are her poem scents
her map less compass
what is wear
she says, pouring herself
palms to sky and leaves
can we find fining ourselves
grape vines and old trees
can we become these places
that eat death
squeeze sugar
from a reach of dreams
distilling wants and needs
to a quaff touch
can we become honey
and decay, all
the sweet milks between
evening and daylight
can we be a buried past
and an old man
born again a babe
what are we
when loved
she asks
do our lips stain
each other in a smile
does the soul
turn towards morning
when ridden so
of course they do darling
of course they do
now kiss me
EJR ©
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