Nocturne

Indigo bulb of darkness

Punctured by needle lights

Through a fissure of brick canyon shutting out stars,

And a sliver of moon

Spigoting two high windows over the West river....

Boy, I met to-night,

Your eyes are two red-glowing arcs shifting with my vision....

They reflect as in a fading proof

The deadened eyes of a woman,

And your shed virginity,

Light as the withered pod of a sweet pea,

Moist and fragrant

Blows against my soul.

What are you to me, boy,

That I, who have passed so many lights,

Should carry your eyes

Like swinging lanterns?

Lola Ridge


(Picture: Spell .New moon, Nicholas Roerich)