- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Shaded Black
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From yellows in a crayon box, I drew a
Waning sun. Then distant fields of golden,
Wheat and variegated serpents that dream
In black and drink his soul, that father lost
In war, and bide their time in knee-high rye,
And watch the mother's babe. So fast upon
Her swollen breasts that sigh babe cannot hear,
Nor see her mother's mourning dress or hear
Her scorn, her maker. While mother yearns,
So softly plucked from Sappho's ancient cliff
And falls into the thrashing spray
To sink beneath Aegean waves.
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