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An Old Malediction

An Old Malediction

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Published by Stacy Lynn Austin

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Published by: Stacy Lynn Austin on Feb 29, 2012
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02/29/2012

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An Old Malediction By Anthony Hecht What well-heeled knuckle-head, straight from the unisex Hairsylist and

bathed in Russian Leather, Dallies with you these late summer days, Pyrrha, In your expensive sublet? For whom do you Slip into something simple by, say, Gucci? The more fool he who has mapped out for himself The saline latitudes of incontinent grief. Dazzled though he be, poor dope, by the golden looks Your locks fetched up out of a bottle of Clairol, He will know that the wind changes, the smooth sailing Is done for, when the breakers wallop him broadside, When he’s rudderless, dismasted, thoroughly swamped In that mindless rip-tide that got the best of me Once, when I ventured on your deeps, Piranha.

may she by these songs Know it was love I looked for at her hands. How grace informs and presses the brocade Wherein her benefits are whitely stayed. Wanting her clear perfection. Drink.Imitation By Anthony Hecht Let men take note of her. in her name. how may tongues Manifest what no language understands? Yet as her beauty evermore commands Even the tanager with tiny lungs To flush all silence. . And think all glittering enterprise. all tankards to their dryness. and highness Of blood or deed were yet in something minus Lacking the wide approval of her mouth. And to betoken every man his drouth. touching her shyness.

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