← v19n2, Fall 2020
Poetry · 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—