"Stand on the highest pavement of the stair--
Lean on a garden urn--
Weave, weave the sunlight in your hair--"
As I came up the stairs,
she stood in the doorway of her thirdfloor walkup
talking on the telephone
(I remember, half remember , in the shadowed doorway),
a bare arm extended upwards along the doorjamb.
She wore a dark summer dress.
(I have observed that women cast their bodies in charming poses
while holding telephones,
and wonder why no one has painted them that way;
not nudes , of course;
that would be incongruous.)
She grinned and blew down a kiss.
I had forgotten how beautiful she was-- her oriental eyes,
and shining out of the semidarkness;
red lipstick, teeth, the smile
of the disembodied smiling cat.
I felt my bones breaking
and knives harrowing my heart.
I entered the room. She hung up the phone, and I said,
Shall we kiss
as friends or lovers?
And she said, For now, just friends.
And I said, Yes,
yes
.......................................................................Israel Lewis