In a pyloned desert where the scorpion reigns My love and I plucked poppies breathing tales Of crimes now long asleep, whose once-red stains Dyed stabbing men, at sea with bloody sails. The golden sand drowsed. There a dog yelped loud; And in his cry rattled a hollow note Of deep uncanny knowledge of that crowd That loved and bled in winy times remote. The poppies fainted when the moon came wide; The cur lay still. Our passionate review Of red wise folly dreamed on ... She by my side Stared at the Moon; and then I knew he knew. And he smiled at @3her@1; to him 'twas funny - Her calm steel eyes, her earth-old throat of honey! |