Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Breakfast Song by Elizabeth Bishop

My love, my saving grace,
your eyes are awfully blue.
I kiss your funny face,
your coffee-flavored mouth.
Last night I slept with you.
Today I love you so
how can I bear to go
(as soon I must, I know)
to bed with ugly death
in that cold, filthy place,
to sleep there without you,
without the easy breath
and nightlong, limblong warmth
I've grown accustomed to?
--Nobody wants to die;
tell me it is a lie!
But no, I know it's true.
It's just the common case;
there's nothing one can do.
My love, my saving grace,
your eyes are awfully blue
early and instant blue.


innommable said...

This one makes me think of my Pootie Pie... I love you!

Rubicund Y. Logorrhea said...

Oh... my Luscious Lulo... November's last day! Where does the time go? A thousand breakfasts later, and there we were, squeezed on the tunneling Blue, separated by a thin man with glasses, only to emerge impatiently to the smell of bacon.


Eryn said...

wow. that's so beautiful. and so sad. it's romantic.

makes me think of romeo and juliet.