The Black Virginity
Baby Priests
On green sward
Yew-closed
Silk beaver
Rhythm of redemption
Fluttering of Breviaries
Fluted black silk cloaks
Hung square from shoulders
Truncated juvenility
Uniform segregation
Union in severity
Modulation
Intimidation
Pride of misapprehended preparation
Ebony statues training for immobility
Anaemic jawed
Wise saw to one another
Prettily the little ones
Gesticulate benignly upon one another in the sun buzzвБ†вАФ
Finger and thumb circles postulate pulpits
Profiles forsworn to Donatello
Munching tall talk vestral shop
Evangelical snobs
Uneasy dreaming
In hermetically-sealed dormitories
Not of me or you Sister Saraminta
Of no more or less
Than the fit of PopeвАЩs mitres
It is an old religion that put us in our places
Here am I in lilac print
Preposterously no less than the world flesh and devil
Having no more idea what those are
What I am
Than Baby Priests of what вАЬHeвАЭ is
or they areвБ†вАФ
Messianic mites tripping measured latin ring-a-roses
Subjugated adolescence
Retraces loose steps to furling of Breviaries
In broiling shadows
The last with apostolic lurch
Tries for a high hung fruit
And misses
Anyway it is inedible
It is always thus
In the Public Garden.
Parallel lines
An old man
Eyeing a white muslin girlвАЩs school
And all this
As pleasant as bewildering
Would not eventually meet
I am forever bewildered
Old men are often grown greedyвБ†вАФ
What nonsense
It is noon
And salvationвАЩs seedlings
Are headed off for the refectory.