Poems: Collected and New

Poems: Collected and New

Poems: Collected and New

Poems: Collected and New

Excerpt

EUROPA


The party was no good again!

Only the brilliant girls redeemed

A dull and tedious affair:

What was the matter with the men?

To her, at least, they always seemed

Embarrassed or, perhaps, afraid,

Polite, intelligent, and thin,

Never a bull-necked savage there;

So she came home and went to bed.


Exasperated, she undressed,

Shook back her hair, and tumbled in,

Pulled up the sheet again, and pressed

Its chilly edge against her breast--

She wanted so to be possessed,

And she had really never been.

Her body's manufactured ache

Kept her half-sleeping, half-awake.


She listened to the big old boats,

The ponderous deliberate hulls

Whose hoarse and raucous whistle-notes

Set up a pounding in her pulse:

They were not boats, they were not boats,

They were not boats at all, but bulls

With red and thunder-swollen throats,

They were not boats, they were not boats--

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