Classic Poem

Tammuz dies on the skyline,
His blood seeps away with twilight
In the dim cavern. Darkness
Is a black ambulance,
Night a flock of women:
Kohl, black cloaks.
Night, an enormous tent.
Night, a blocked day.

I called to my negro maid:
" Murjana, it's dark now,
Switch the light on. You know what? I'm hungry.
There's a song, I forgot, some sort of a song.
What's this chatter on the radio?
From London, Murjana, a
Jazz concert so
Find it, I'm happy, jazz,
Blood rhythm. "

Tammuz dies and Murjana
Crouches cold like the forest.
She says, breathless:
" The night, wild pig,
How miserable the night is. "
" Murjana, was that the doorbell? "
So she says, breathless:
" There are women at the door. "
And Murjana makes the coffee.

Fur over white shoulders:
Wolf covers woman.
On her breasts a whole sheen of tiger skin
Filling the forest, stealing from the trees.
Night stretches,
Distraction, night
An earth-oven, radiant from ghosts,
Bread inhaling the night fires,
And the visitor eats, famished.
Murjana crouches
Cold like the forest.

The visitor laughs, she says: " Su " ad's boyfriend,
Been giving her a bad time, broke the engagement,
The dog disowned the bitch ... "
Tammuz dies, never to return.
Coldness drips from the moon,
The visitor huddles at the fire gossiping, sharp-tongued.
Night has extinguished the coasts,
The visitor crouches, cold, robed
With wolf fur.
The fire she lit with bloody talk
Goes out.

Night and ice,
Across them a sound falls, clank of iron
Muffled by wolf howls.
Distant sound,
The visitor, like me, is cold.

So come on over and share my cold,
Come by God,
Husband, I'm alone here,
The visitor is cold as I am —
So come on over,
Only with you can I talk about everyone.
And there are so many people to be talked about.
The dark is a hearse, the driver blind
And your heart is a burial ground.