two or three cheap men sit saying
about one night
******* some old
sunburnt gal

says one long thought
of an old man
murdered by
two white lips

chapped lips on the
spit of the world his
hands were young once

nice once on the young necks
of girls made by long drinks
brandy wine and copper blood

(and the shrill wisp of a flower
is in his hair as
he
the old man who
murdered by
two lips

gets up from drunk and goes
to  the withered primrose of some
summer ago when his long

and cool muscles blossomed
amongst tired evenings and
almost night was quick with
hot music of stars and brilliant trifles

. And looks he the old white
who man by lips
murders

into the distinct crow
of his shrunken
face a mirror

a mirror that
his face

does a single
supple


tear,

               .


  

        ,