Fall 1947 • Vol. IX No. 4 PoetryOctober 1, 1947 |

Countenance

All where I am your countenance is not Since you wear it to the limit of your office wall. But the face of your countenance perceives me My world for me, and not in my own eyes. Drawn mouth and cheek in deepest expectation Tell me the country that I may discern, Your view and lot, and not My own landmarks. Be flesh to me, countenance of vision, Insolent in variety, So I may look from you to upon you, Your face your fiction in my own eyes.

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