Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE PROXY, by BORIS LEONIDOVICH PASTERNAK



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THE PROXY, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: I live with your picture, the one that is laughing
Last Line: Exhaling its musky-warm vapors again.


I live with your picture, the one that is laughing,
Whose fingers are twisting together as they
Intertwine and bend back till the wrists are near breaking --
Whose guests settle sadly to stay and to stay.

Who from the packs' slapping, Rakoczy's bravado,
Crystal drops in the guest room, crystal glasses and guests,
Runs flaming, escaping, along the piano
From the whalebone, the roses, the bones, the rosettes.

Then, your tresses be-tumbled, a rose-bud, a tea-rose,
All dizzy and drooping pinned into your sash,
You waltz playfully into the limelight, your teeth closed
So tight on your stole that your mouth's like a gash.

Then, crushing the skin in your hand, you demolish
A cool tangerine, in haste to regain
The chandeliered, shuttered-off room where the waltz is
Exhaling its musky-warm vapors again.





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