← v19n2, Fall 2020Poetry · Volume 19, Number 2
Renault / Paris / 1935
how many monuments
must I suckle, Father—
I work my house into the ground-
socket, tone by tone—
its bowstring glistens in the draught—
I will live another year, perhaps—
indecently—
locked in a single breast—
as every night is indecent
but guards the bowman’s right arm
while he digs & tastes, digs
&—invariably—tastes—