Friday, April 6, 2012

Day/Poem #6: T.S. Eliot

Of course, I would love to give you all a little taste of The Waste Land. But also, of course, that would be much too much and much too long, here at this time. Maybe towards the end of the month...?! So, instead, another piece by Eliot, this one much shorter but just as well written, and still one of my favorites. How could I post poems for Poetry Month without including something by Eliot?


As she laughed I was aware of becoming involved in her
laughter and being part of it, until her teeth were only 
accidental stars with a talent for squad-drill. I was drawn in
by short gasps, inhaled at each momentary recovery, lost
finally in the dark caverns of her throat, bruised by the ripple
of unseen muscles. An elderly waiter with trembling hands
was hurriedly spreading a pink and white checked cloth over
the rusty green iron table, saying: "If the lady and gentleman
wish to take their tea in the garden, if the lady and 
gentleman wish to take their tea in the garden..." I decided 
that if the shaking of her breasts could be stopped, some of
the fragments of the afternoon might be collected, and I 
concentrated my attention with careful subtlety to this end. 

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