What if I could tell you how it felt
Under the skin, intra-nerves
Where the meanings are—
Would you know me,
Kiss me perhaps,
Your lips without
Politics? Yes and no
I say, ambition
Is lovely, the light
Of the mind is like tea
In a Russian glass,
I love you, my heart
Lifts like a taffeta skirt
In a good dance.
No, no, it is mystic
When the party’s over,
When there are no words,
Each of us waving farewell
With printed pages in our hands.
