Poem by Dorothy Parker

August

When my eyes are weeds,
And my lips are petals, spinning
Down the wind that has beginning
Where the crumpled beeches start
In a fringe of salty reeds;
When my arms are elder-bushes,
And the rangy lilac pushes
Upward, upward through my heart;

Summer, do your worst!
Light your tinsel moon, and call on
Your performing stars to fall on
Headlong through your paper sky;
Nevermore shall I be cursed
By a flushed and amorous slattern,
With her dusty laces' pattern
Trailing, as she straggles by.

1. Portrait of the Artist
2. Chant for Dark Hours
3. Unfortunate Coincidence
4. Inventory
5. They Part

Lizette Reese August ("No wind, no bird. The river flames like brass")

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