It's
the organza that's got her.
That's why this is happening.
A sea of billowy white stuff
must enfold her limbs.
No
one said "Kathryn"
before "clothed in crinoline,"
But the ears that hear cathedral
bells are Kim's.
And
they're dripping, tripping
down for her, who'll walk no more
on fields unfrosted;
What a dream -
what hypoglycemian hymns.
And
shouldn't we make her happy?
Mustn't her heart be glad?
Are we not bound to ride
her train of sequins
and
darts and all the
pictures our hearts
have
had.
March
26, 1988
Pisa, Italy
Copyright
@ 2002 by Arthur Garfunkel
Used by Permission of Author. All Rights Reserved.
| Poem One | | | Poem Two | | | Poem Three | | | Poem Four | | | Poem Five | | | Poem Six | | | Poem Seven | | | Poem Eight | | | Poem Nine | | | Poem Ten |