X. if i should sleep with a lady called death
get another man with firmer lips
to take your new mouth in his teeth
(hips pumping pleasure into hips).Seeing how the limp huddling string
of your smile over his body squirms
kissingly, i will bring you every spring
handfuls of little normal worms.Dress deftly your flesh in stupid stuffs,
phrase the immense weapon of your hair.
Understanding why his eye laughs,
i will bring you every yearsomething which is worth the whole,
an inch of nothing for your soul.
XVI. a blue woman with sticking out breasts hanging
clothes. On the line. not so old
for the mother of twelve undershirts(we are told
by is it Bishop Taylor who needs hangingthat marriage is a sure cure for masturbation).
A dirty wind,twitches the,clothes which are clean
--- this is twilight,
a little puppy hopping between
skipping
children
(It is the consummation
of day,the hour)she says to me you big fool
she says i says to her i says Sally
i says
themmmoon,begins to,drool
softly,in the hot alley,
a nigger's voice feels curiously cool
(suddenly-Lights go!on,by schedule
XXI. when you went away it was morning
(that is, big horses; light feeling up
streets; heels taking derbies (where?) a pup
hurriedly hunched over swill; one buttingtrolley imposingly empty; snickering
shop doors unlocked by white-grub
faces) clothes in delicate hubbubas you stood thinking of anything,
maybe the world . . . . But i have wondered since
isn't it odd of you really to lie
a sharp agreeable flower between myamused legs
kissing with little dintsof april, making the obscene shy
breasts tickle, laughing when i wilt and wince
XV. (the phonograph's voice like a keen spider skippingquickly over patriotic swill.
The,negress,in the,rocker by the,curb,tippingand tipping,the flocks of pigeons. And the skil-
ful loneliness,and the rather fat
man in bluishsuspenders half-reading the
Evening Something
in the normal window. and a cat.A cat waiting for god knows makes me
wonder if i'm alive(eye pries,
not open. Tail stirs.) And the.fire-escapes ---
the night.makes me wonder if,if i am
the face of a baby smeared with beautiful jamor
my invincible Nearness rapes
laughter from your preferable,eyes
--- ©1923, e. e. cummings