The child crawls in widening circles, backs to the wall as a dog would. The lights grow dim, his mother talks. Swag: a hot night and the clouds running low were brains and I above them with the moon saw down through a glass skull. And O god I think I want to sleep within some tree or on a warmer planet beneath a march of asteroids. He saw the lady in the Empire dress raise it to sit bare along the black tree branch where she sang a ditty of nature. They are packing up in the lamplight, moving out again for the West this time sure only of inevitable miracles. No mail delights me as much as this -- written with plum juice on red paper and announcing the rebirth of three dead species. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WILD FLOWER'S SONG by WILLIAM BLAKE MY BIRD by EMILY CHUBBUCK JUDSON SIMON LEGREE: NEGRO SERMON; MEMORIAL TO BOOKER T. WASHINGTON by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY TO CONSTANTIA, SINGING (1) by PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: FEBRUARY by EDMUND SPENSER MARIE MIGNOT by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |