名人诗歌|The Coronary Garden, section 6

Despair needles you with its whisper，

it is agnostic， it believes in irony^1，

like a flys buzz it is perceptions， a busy

blood clot^{2 that says alive， alive.}

Im not the sTOPped motion， the straight line out.

Your garlands are convivial^{3， festival， sacrificial，}

nuptual， honorary， funebrial.

That spring， when we strolled in the rain，

you bent^{4 to the stone walls alyssum}

bloom， stem， and root， you tore a handful free.

Against your mouth the petals⁵

were a mass of stars winking^{6 out.}