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A MIRROR, A WINDOW, A POOL
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For Amelita Galli-Curci
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All very old; all partially transfigured,
But still reflective, magnetised to life.
Through them great beauty swam or looked or beckoned,
Or was endangered or supremely safe.
Or trembled on the brink of summer folly,
Or read the truth in hieroglyphs of flesh.
Or saw the kiss it could not feel or savor,
Saw thunder or could hear the lightning flash.
How distant from the mines are diamonds carried!
How far from light the mirror hangs to die!
How long from shore the lilies must be ferried
That call the self of memory to say:
Whose limbs were lengthened through this lovely water?
Whose breath lay, living, on this fragile pane?
Whose eyes no longer beg this shallow silver
For years beyond this room, like mine, like mine?