At the flagging season's natural end
Unfurling from the pastel swatches
In the sky, can anything in fact suspend
Declining day with the cautious watches
Of the night, with the race
Of fading sea or spray of time
Glowing from a guileless face
Whose hands are frozen in their prime?
Can a two-dimensional gouache
Of ticking postcards beaches
Whose penduluming oceans slosh
The dark world with their reaches
Really balance out the spinal swings
Of the jeweled summer's broken springs?
Rue de Varenne
February 18th-25th, 2005