8/8/2019 After Catullus II

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After Catullus

I

To whom shall I give

the freshly inked pages of my book,

Cornelius, to you? No, to no one.

Rather let the mice gnaw at the edgesand cockroaches nest in the space

behind the sewn and folded signatures,

for the world sets no store

on words Ive placed there

in strict homage to secret thought.

II

A history of the world

in a single volume?

If only you held your ambition

as well as your wine.

III

Delicate passerine,

calm in sinew, tenacious,

dead, still bird;twice-imprisoned sparrow,

more precious than the eyes

that watched you,

caught by what

no creature can escape,

you rouge my ladyswater-laden eyes.

IV

Because of a wind in the leaves

I left my home forever.

For the sake of a rustling wing

I chanced an endless road.

Suns may rise and set.

Once brief light flees,

nothings left but perpetual sleep.