My lady’s pet Agàpornis,
Who sang for us all summer long
Both night and day
has flown away.
But mockingbirds around the house
Still sing the love-bird’s song.
Don’t look for beauty everywhere.
Twisted concertina wire
May bring to mind a metaphor
………….Of vine and root,
But it will never bud and flower —
………….Much less fruit.
No one knows
With the gift of a book
O lucky book, that witless lies
upon my lady’s open thighs!
Unlucky book — so unaware
what luck it is to linger there!
ABOUT THE POET
J. KATES is a poet and literary translator who lives in Fitzwilliam, New Hampshire.