The Forbidden Pronouns (116)
We press too close, though neither of us minds,
In bed the anodyne of married love.
Afraid, as of'en now, but not from finds;
Our issues, changed to bonds at one remove.
And Djuna, though you still are quick to mark
My least and thoughtless truancy, seem shaken
Free of some dark certitude. The bark
That used to scrape and urge despair, has taken
A homely turn. I almost rub his cheeks
And laugh to see with what droll pranks may come
A pest of other days, ago but weeks.
And when we flew, your relatives mouthed doom
But paid no heed to what our returning proved,
Cassandra being the only role they loved.
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