#89 Op. posth. no. 12

http://allpoetry.com/Dream-Song-89:-Op.-posth.-no.-12
 

“O she must startle like a fallen gown,”—nice line. Startling. It’s always and always will be an arresting image, at least for the likes of a Henry, always a moment of thrill, fleeting maybe, familiar, sure, but thrilling, and of course that’s the point in this line of the poem. Sex and desire will finally rouse Henry from his coffin. Here is a poem about living with desire and satisfaction:

I Will Remember

Thankfully, that I baked bread,
That I had resolved that mixing,
Kneading, the plump rising of dough’s
Yeasty community, breathing the warm
Fragrance of browning loaves,

Like incense through a cathedral

That reminds hers and his and our senses
That like fragrance, spirit saturates creation,

Would enrich the rhythms of my life

And join me

                      to the women of Ur
Who slapped and folded
Their coarse brown loaves,
The famed boulangers of Lyons,
The unshaven miners of California
Who found tart richness in flour
And fat that communities of germs soured
And plumped,

                        and when the crust

Of my loaf resolved firm and hot,
And I tore it open, smelling
The steam curling from the warmth
Of bread,

                startling as that moment, again,

When my love lets fall her gown,
Or rich as when that bright spring hyacinth
Releases its lavender perfume
And I step off the porch
Patting my wallet, checking my watch,
Keys and briefcase in order,
And I stop and raise my face
To the red stamens on the maples
The morning sky blue, its blueness
Permeating the morning like
The fragrance of smoke through a church
Like the smell of bread baking
Through the kitchen,

I will look back and say, I ate.

 

KZ