A kiss on the forehead — erases misery.
I kiss your forehead.
A kiss on the eyes — lifts sleeplessness.
I kiss your eyes.
A kiss on the lips — is a drink of water.
I kiss your lips.
A kiss on the forehead — erases memory.
1917
I am happy living simply:
like a clock, or a calendar.
Worldly pilgrim, thin,
wise — as any creature. To know
the spirit is my beloved. To come to things — swift
as a ray of light, or a look.
To live as I write: spare — the way
God asks me — and friends do not.
1919
Where does such tenderness come from?
These aren’ t the first curls
I’ ve wound around my finger —
I’ ve kissed lips darker than yours.
The sky is washed and dark
(Where does such tenderness come from?)
Other eyes have known
and shifted away from my eyes.
But I’ ve never heard words like this
in the night
(Where does such tenderness come from?)
with my head on your chest, rest.
