and beige
dream I was
having, I wept
at long
into that ravishing
and prayed,
and wept and
prayed, and kept
weeping and
praying, in these
neverending
circuits, like
crazy—until,
at long
last, this plaster
cast (which I always
kept close—it was
all
I had
left)
of her
face broke—
into that ravishing
secret
emblem of light-
smile—which
only I
would be able to recognize
from past
experience, as
being composed
of half-
pity
and half-
a rejoinder
of relaxed, unbiased
laughter—dispatching exactly
what I needed,
and exactly
when I
needed it: a miracle (yes,
but one
which I'd
still think was hard-
won)—and a simple,
rigid, formal instruction:
to quit—
weeping so
much and stop
praying so often—
and, for god's
sake, to wake-
up and just
kiss her—somewhere below
the neck, already.
