Untitled: O The Dwelling


O the dwelling in the stillness of the dusking garden,

When the eyes of the sister round and dark opened in the brother,

The purple of their broken mouths

Melted in the coolness of the evening.

Heart-breaking hour.

September ripened the golden pear. Sweetness of incense

And the dahlia burns at the old fence

Say! where were we, when we passed by on small black boat

In the evening,

The crane passed over. The freezing arms

Held black embraced, and inside blood ran.

And around our temples moist blue. Poor little child.

Deeply a dark race ponders out of knowing eyes.

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