You know how you will turn abruptly from the lilacs
and cry?
How even in midst of mindless outdoor game
will sigh
after a face glimpsed only once from the moving train?
That lavish longing in spicy snowshine December
to taste July,
and then with the plushy canopy of midsummer
eye
with desire the healing hospital-look of winter?
Harmonically mated, honestly happy with husband,
yet lie
undersheet-shuddering for primeval jungle lover;
buy
ticket for trip and whole traveling-wish is to hurry back;
piano is playing sunny jazz, the room is filled with friends,
why
do you suddenly look lost and island-lonely?
O Lord-high
above all great and public grief squats private discontent.
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