Sonnets—Actualities XIII

upon the room’s
                silence,i will sew

a nagging button of candlelight
(halfstoopingto exactly kiss the trite

worm of her nakedness
                      until it go

rapidly to bed:i will get in with
it,wisely,pester skilfully,teasing
its lips,absurd eyes,the hair).   Creasing
its smoothness—and leave the bed agrin with

memories
        (this white woman and i who

love to feel what it will do
in my bullying fingers)
as for the candle,it’ll

turn into a little curse

of wax.   Something,distinct and.   Amusing,brittle