Jean Garrigue

 Next Poem          

O beautiful, my relic bone,
Whitening like the foreign moon,
Whose luster consummates my tomb.

O beautiful, my fresh rose-grown,
Rose-rose white from that small bone
Whose vapor is the breath I own

And tendrils of my blood curl in.
Rose-rose white, the flesh I am
But murderer eye and murdered!

For all the flesh becomes an eye:
I am no flesh while yet eye's eaten
The rose-rose flesh bare to the bone,

Bare to the bone! But that flesh still
By heat of dews renews again

O bless, occurrence of the moon
When actual flesh of the both is gone,
My flesh the air the eye takes in,

That flesh on bone the air the eye takes in,
Death-wedding the moon shines in

Next Poem 

 Back to Jean Garrigue
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry and subscribe to My Poetic Side ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors Weekly news

To be able to leave a comment here you must be registered. Log in or Sign up.