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Carl Sandburg
Women of night life amid the lights
Where the line of your full, round throats
Matches in gleam the glint of your eyes
And the ring of your heart-deep laughter :
It is much to be warm and sure of to-morrow.
Women of night life along the shadows,
Lean at your throats and skulking the walls.
Gaunt as a bitch worn to the bone,
Under the paint of your smiling faces :
It is much to be warm and sure of to-morrow.
The clam is a lucky creature
because it has a shell to go back to.
Or it has a shell to live in
Clammed, keeping others out.
The only problem being a clam
Is that people would pry it open
For a pearl or two
And would discard when disappointed.
It is indeed sad for the clam
To lie disembowelled, splayed,
Displaying all its innards
To all and sundry passing by...
red serrated
face shining
at the sun.
yet like me
you haunch
your tiny
petals in the
dark.
" Love has no shame." —
Twas this you said to me.
Shall Love reveal
Hid beauties that are real
And still disguise the soul's infirmity
In fear of blame?
" Love has no cruelty." —
See first the wounds that are within
Hid by this quite sufficient skin.
Loving your spirit, I may not deceive it.
Then of my body, Lover — take or leave it.