when my love comes to see me it’s
just a little like music,a
little more like curving colour(say
orange)
          against silence,or darkness….
 
the coming of my love emits
a wonderful smell in my mind,
 
you should see when i turn to find
her how my least heart-beat becomes less.
And then all her beauty is a vise
 
whose stilling lips murder suddenly me,
 
but of my corpse the tool her smile makes something
suddenly luminous and precise
 
—and then we are I and She….
 
what is that the hurdy-gurdy’s playing

  • 0
  • 0
  •  
  •  
Login to comment...
Email

Other works by E. E. Cummings...

Some poets who follow E. E. Cummings...

Laura Bertolini Catherine Ryan Devraj Dutt CLEMENTINE Chactas von Goethe