(Dedicated to e. e. cummings)

By David Hunter Sutherland

Cover this clean,
take the linen, the sidearm
the hazing milk chest of
grandmothers' jewels, and
lower me quickly !
waste not apprehension,
set the chore to task.

The earthy smell fell
light over our dark opposite-rains over such sweet colors as love;
the minstrel pastel,
bardavon greys,
marsupial brown.
pruned from fruition mind like kind has fed kind,
flesh fed flesh.
Confess ! the beggar hasn't heart and
too cold
is mine.