Poem

Handsome, like those foam-topped tidal waves breaking high, in little crystal globes. Handsome, like the breeze that lifts a little tuft of tulle. If tulle were life. Handsome, like a frozen face, tear-tracked, when the sun hammers down. Handsome. Like fire. Handsome, like the bottomless sky, with that one proud penetrating star. But handsome, too, like a sky that’s an arching ocean, and an earth prone as an ocean’s floor. Handsome ocean-sky, and earth-sea floor. The big question is: where’s the man in a scene like this? Handsome: the man asleep. And the night sky swarms, tropic and wide. Handsome, in some ornamental, muggy midnight caught between cat’s paws. Sharp-nailed: they prick. Handsome: the firefly swarms around you. Handsome, like a soap bubble grazing a little black dress. Like a soap-bubble pricked with a pin. Handsomeness a rainbow, a rainbow an arrow, an arrow in my chest. Handsome, like shadows slow-rolling on a Japanese screen. Handsome motion. Handsome as life and poison. Sun-blood handsome. Bleeding sun. Translated from the French by Robert Archambeau