Precipitations by Evelyn Scott
page 17 of 69 (24%)
page 17 of 69 (24%)
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AFTER YOUTH
Oh, that mysterious singing sadness of youth! Exotic colors in the lamplit darkness of wet streets, Musk and roses in the twilight, The moon in the park like a golden balloon... Then to awaken and find the shadows fled, The music gone... Empty, bleak! My soul has grown very small and shriveled in my body. It no longer looks out. It rattles around, And inside my body it begins to look, Staring all around inside my body, Like a crab in a crevice, Staring with bulging eyes At the strange place in which it finds itself. THE SHADOW THAT WALKS ALONE The silence tugs at my breast With formless lips, Like a heavy baby, Attenuates me, Draws me through myself into it. I sit in the womb of an idiot, Helpless before its mouthing tenderness. The huge flap ears are attentive, And the soundless face bends toward me |
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