65 How well I know -- within the low and bated sound Of your attentive, slow to listen, strings of shoulders, You hide the, flying high in shimmer, flute of smile To fuse the fighting metal of my marching soldiers. And well, I know -- with heavy herds, from eating tired, My hungry soldiers follow, stunned, your call of music, And bring my body at the order of your smile To eat behind the strings, within your flute of fusion.


Confined Verse
Collected Poems