Ladybug, the autumnal, menopausal forest is aflame,
Burning with your yearning and desire: go home.
No season of mists or mellow fruitfulness for you, only
The hot flash of Eros dying, growing old.
Fall now, the deep loam envelopes your breasts,
Dugs that hang low. The crimson leaves as
Veined as your hands, varices red and blue,
Glitter with last dew, the brilliance before death.
Can you, withered Phoenix, rise?
Female over fifty, do you have your music too?
- Metric Action in the Free Verse of Bob Holman acce...
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- Patient Women Ad in India Today!
- My Gumiliev acrostic translation on Russian Gumili...
- My Gumiliev translation to be published on Gumilie...
- Celebrate National Translation Month this Saturday...
- "My Dead" on FULCRUM Page
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