FACTORY-GIRL
by: Maxwell Bodenheim (1892-1954)
 HY are
your eyes like dry brown flower-pods,
- Still, gripped by the memory of lost petals?
- I feel that, if I touched them,
- They would crumble to falling brown dust,
- And you would stand with blindness revealed.
- Yet you would not shrink, for your life
- Has been long since memorized,
- And eyes would only melt out against its high walls.
- Besides, in the making of boxes
- Sprinkled with crude forget-me-nots,
- One is curiously blessed if one's eyes are dead.
|
"Factory-Girl" is reprinted
from The Masque of Poets. Ed. Edward J. O'Brien. New York:
Dodd, Mead and Company, 1918. |
MORE
POEMS BY MAXWELL BODENHEIM |
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