You move your hands on me; I feel their faces -
This one’s soft slow aging smile,
That one’s wordless yes.
You lie beside me here: yet I must share you -
The German speaking in her sleep,
Your fragile Countess,
And those three few you loved,
Those three lost Orientals, turning
Their faces to me from your crowded dreams.
You ask me why [...]
Archive for the ‘Elizabeth Boleman Herring’ Category
The Crowded Bed
Posted in Elizabeth Boleman Herring, Poetry on August 30, 2008 | Leave a Comment »
For The Tall Sailor’s Son
Posted in Elizabeth Boleman Herring, Poetry on August 25, 2008 | 9 Comments »
I was twelve when you were not at all,
My dear. Your mother taught me what
She knew. I saw the sailors come to call -
I heard the tall one’s voice long after she forgot
Him. You must know these things, and yet
You come and stare and ask me to say yes,
Your voice all breath, your hands all [...]