GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE

Author(s): EDWARD HIRSCH

Source: Poetry, Vol. 171, No. 4 (FEBRUARY 1998), pp. 270-271
Published by: Poetry Foundation
Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/40733577
Accessed: 26-02-2016 11:14 UTC

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POETRY

EDWARD HIRSCH

GUILLAUME APOLLINAIRE

It's therighttimeto pollinatetheair

And speakto you withan unpolishedaccent
Abouttheterriblewar-likegod oflove
Swaggering throughthemuddytrenchesoflove-
Lessnessjust to huntdown a bloodyscent
In theopen heartof GuillaumeApollinaire

A countwithoutmoneya realno account

WanderingaimlesslythroughtheParisstreets
Fromdawn untildusklustingand listing
Like a woundedsoldierwho keepsreenlisting
Long afterthewar has endedin thestreets
I followedyou so oftenthatI lostcount

Of thenightsthatmeanthemostto love
Sweettenderpornographic and passionate
Whatcomesreelingback is how thelight-
Ning flashedover the rooftopsat twilight
And we clungtogetherfrightened and passionate
Untilwe came apartin thesoggyarmsoflove

Eros and Thanatosare like eternaltwins

Smuttybrothers volunteering forthefront
Where smelledtheshamelessodor of death
I
And dreamtof yournude bodylepetitmort
Risingup in me like a suddenaffront
My lightningmybelovedmydespondenttwin
When I thinkof mysexualmisadventures
Withwomenwho were flaresand faultywires
A cubista governessa teachera redhead
I remember peeringintoan X-rayof myhead
And seeinga labyrinthof crossedwires
That correspondedto myeroticadventures

270

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 EDWARD HIRSCH

But when I'm havingnightmares about theWar

And theshrapnellodgedinsidemyskull
Your facealone comesbrimming intomind
Like thesunitselfand I scarcelymind
You've movedto theinsideof myskull
Bandagedsecurelyby the GreatWar
Sit down witha drinkof Cointreauor whiskey
Standup and erectforonce a Pole in air
I have somethingto tellyou aboutkindness
The adoredfoodoflove is milkykindness
I maynot havebecomeApollo inerrant
Or anythingFrenchbut poor Kostrowitzky

A bastardzone of uncertainty
a Polishnomad
A clowningcriminaldrunkcriticOrphicsickness
Who oscillatesbetweenadventureand order
A lieutenantgivinga mortalcommandingorder
A manwho seeslifeas an exultantsickness
A tragicsurrealist
drivingpeople mad
But at leastI recognizedthebrightflames
Of yourhairand yourfunnyscowlinglips
And youreyesthatlooked clearthroughme
And yourscarredhandsthatwill soon buryme
Promiseyou'llweara songupon yourlips
Come down to findme singingin theflames

271

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