Apparition
Through Ancient solitude
Upon the source of night
Your hooded eyes intrude,
Dimly, their agate light.
The silence glistens, pure,
Swirling within the brink
Where, phantom of velure,
You poise your lips to drink---
Where you, dark and alone,
May drink from the abyss
And vanish, with a kiss
Of naked feet on stone.
---Bert Laub;
Boston,
22 August 1963
Copyright ©1995. All rights reserved.
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