She Walks in Beauty

(...) How does it feel to be dead? I say. You touch my knees with your blue fingers. And when you open your mouth, a ball of yellow light falls to the floor and burns a hole through it. Don't tell me, I say. I don't want to hear. (...)

Edward Hopper,

Study for Morning Sun,

my girl's tall with hard long eyes as she stands, with her long hard hands keeping silence on her dress, good for sleeping is her long hard body filled with surprise like a white shocking wire, when she smiles a hard long smile it sometimes makes gaily go clean through me tickling aches, and the weak noise of her eyes easily files my impatience to an edge--my girl's tall and taut, with thin legs just like a vine that's spent all of its life on a garden-wall, and is going to die. When we grimly go to bed with these legs she begins to heave and twine about me, and to kiss my face and head.

Rose, oh pure contradiction, delight of being no one's sleep under so many lids.