Popcorn Girl
There is every evidence of an increasing interest in ATLANTICpoetry. As an incentive for writers yet unestablished, twice a year we set aside a number of pages in the ATLANTIC to be devoted to the work of young poets.
BY RICHARD DANKLEFF
I
O popcorn girl (of yore all legs and eyes)
Remember Sunday bells the sky rang love
Is come, sang down a March wind, swung above
Streets still piled high with blizzard turned surprise
(Raised banks of brows) that two should so revise
The calendar of croci and gray doves
To go snow-blind half-witting with no gloves
(Cold hand in hand) a pity to the wise.
Remember Sunday bells the sky rang love
Is come, sang down a March wind, swung above
Streets still piled high with blizzard turned surprise
(Raised banks of brows) that two should so revise
The calendar of croci and gray doves
To go snow-blind half-witting with no gloves
(Cold hand in hand) a pity to the wise.
But the Widow called you “hon” at Pete’s garage
Who set up Cokes and smelled of grease and beer
And told a winter’s tale of an old Dodge
Scene of Pete’s courtship where they both blamed near
Froze what they valued, numb in a mirage
Where cupids hummed like Buicks in third gear.
Who set up Cokes and smelled of grease and beer
And told a winter’s tale of an old Dodge
Scene of Pete’s courtship where they both blamed near
Froze what they valued, numb in a mirage
Where cupids hummed like Buicks in third gear.
II
Where swallows dared at swooping, rash sunlight
Went all the way and caught sun-dazzled noon,
But these sprawled on the sand pit could deep swoon
Or drown for all of me when I caught sight
Of you exposed to swim and to excite
My senses with eye-opening honeymoon
Fiestas of sensation whose hard tune
Keeps lovers dancing turning through the night.
Went all the way and caught sun-dazzled noon,
But these sprawled on the sand pit could deep swoon
Or drown for all of me when I caught sight
Of you exposed to swim and to excite
My senses with eye-opening honeymoon
Fiestas of sensation whose hard tune
Keeps lovers dancing turning through the night.
Had 1 known what I know I would have heard
Knocking when so much girl pink-short-and-haltered
Bloomed just for me. But my young hearing erred,
Thought heart was all that pounded, hence I faltered.
We both know now to listen: chance deferred
Taps through the wall regrets for what has altered.
Knocking when so much girl pink-short-and-haltered
Bloomed just for me. But my young hearing erred,
Thought heart was all that pounded, hence I faltered.
We both know now to listen: chance deferred
Taps through the wall regrets for what has altered.