Demyan

When he comes

will you wait for

me?

When you fight

(as we know you will)

will you tell him

No

Not yet, not without

her.

Unknown days of southern

rain with baseball bits of

frozen sky-melt, and the

prairies are sprung with

yucca;

spiral crème waves of

yucca

that beat ceaselessly

against the oddly un

dulating sky

You will always be

young, the old woman

said when I was.

So says The Sun. And

that is both your blessing

and your curse.

Cowboys have driven the

wild-eyed bulls

(some big as a car)

to pasture this side. At

sunset, their neon green

ear-tags top the yucca sea and

smiling I think of you

smiling as you read this.

But you are no tyrant and

this is not Diabolique.

We love not each other

we love only

You

and you love neither of

Us

enough to wait.

So when he comes,

go

with him, darling.

Go with him.

We will be here

(both of us)

when you get

back.