Thursday, February 08, 2007

At Baia

I should have thought
in a dream you would have brought
some lovely, perilous thing,
orchids piled in a great sheath,
as who would say (in a dream),
"I send you this,
who left the blue veins
of your throat unkissed."


Why was it that your hands
(that never took mine),
your hands that I could see
drift over the orchid-heads
so carefully,
your hands, so fragile, sure to lift
so gently, the fragile flower-stuff--
ah, ah, how was it


You never sent (in a dream)
the very form, the very scent,
not heavy, not sensuous,
but perilous--perilous--
of orchids, piled in a great sheath,
and folded underneath on a bright scroll,
some word:


"Flower sent to flower;
for white hands, the lesser white,
less lovely of flower-leaf,"


or

"Lover to lover, no kiss,
no touch, but forever and ever this."




-- H. D.

3 comments:

Lyle Daggett said...

H.D. is just absolutely sublime sometimes, isn't she?

Thanks for posting this.

Sam of the ten thousand things said...

I like the approach in this piece-- especially the asides. Great form. H.D. is wonderful.

jenni said...

You know, I haven't read much of her. I really liked this tho. I need to get me some HD. Thanks suz!