Poet in the Basement

Only to tell your loveliness — this love : Only to tell Pain's odor, beauty-burning miracle Of my surrender !

Late I flew . . . But ever arrow-straight I fly now from the shade that falls — that fell Lightly on you, On me with a wave's weight.

Oh, I must go : this city has a spell I never gave it leave to have. Still, still to tell The weaving of your footsteps on the stairs With my slow-dropping love for you that wears Cold stone I want my heart for — still I stay. Put out the stars. Give me another day Only to tell.