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Poem by James Joyce

A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight

They mouth loves language. Gnash
The thirteen teeth
Your lean jaws grin with. Lash
Your itch and quailing, nude greed of the flesh.
Loves breath in you is stale, worded or sung,
As sour as cats breath,
Harsh of tongue.

This grey that stares
Lies not, stark skin and bone.
Leave greasy lips their kissing. None
Will choose her what you see to mouth upon.
Dire hunger holds his hour.
Pluck forth your heart, saltblood, a fruit of tears.
Pluck and devour!

James Joyce

James Joyce's other poems:
  1. Chamber Music. 20. In the Dark Pine-Wood
  2. Chamber Music. 22. Of That So Sweet Imprisonment
  3. Chamber Music. 7. My Love Is in a Light Attire
  4. Nightpiece
  5. Chamber Music. 32. Rain Has Fallen All the Day

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