Compounded in confusion
A mute, prosaic Sappho, I pray
‘Oh let me dumb be blessed with song
To fling at the metaphors of darkness
Cemented in silence of swift time
On this side of morning;
To bring the dawn and rein Time's ravenous mouth,
To spend the sacraments on sheets
Redeemed in a kiss,
To proclaim New Christmas
The carol chanted by her eyes.’
All this splendor, I pray
A groundling with face upturned
To the snow fallen down
In the night of her hair
Above me.
Deaf to my song?
Would she feign deafness
Or wave me away?
Ah, I'm left to pray,
As Venus in her ascendency
Draws triangulations on reality.