Mina Loy

Songs to Joannes, V

Midnight empties the street
Of all but us
Three
I am undecided which way back
                       To the left a boy
—One wing has been washed in the rain
   The other will never be clean any more—
Pulling door-bells to remind
Those that are snug
                       To the right a haloed ascetic
                       Threading houses
Probes wounds for souls
—The poor can’t wash in hot water—
And I don’t know which turning to take
Since you got home to yourself—first
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