Spring 1953 • Vol. XV No. 2 Poetry |

Prothalamion for K

"Ask her if there are any with baths." "I will tell her we are traveling." "There must be one cool room away from the noise." "It is very hot." "A clean room with more than one window."            Follow, follow up         The stairs, her heavy rump         In front of you.         She stands like a melted candle,         Her face pimply and moonish.         She has given us a veiled look,         She has given us the sign         To follow. And the only ring         Is her ring of keys, round mother         Of your room.                   The key,         Rattling in the tired lock,         Fits at last, like death         Into a tomb.         It is not a room. It is some         Phantasmagori

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Nocturne

By Edgar Bogardus

"Ask her if there are any with baths." "I will tell her we are traveling." "There must be one cool room away from the noise." "It is very hot." "A […]

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