Nov 132013
 
Not like a mouse
Timidly hugging the wainscoting
Did you meet the prismatic glitters
Of July moonlight.

Nor trailing scarves
With threads of silver
Did you attend
Its slippered breeze--

Nor waving silvery scarves
Threaded with prismatic colors
Torn from passing rainbows.
Oh, no.

You came and sat
On a flat wooden chair,
Hard.  And sweated all July.
And stayed.

You sat down hard
On an old wooden chair,
Sweating and wiping your face
Prismatically.

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