The Yale Anthology of Twentieth-Century French Poetry

LÉON-GONTRAN DAMAS

with these headaches that stop
when I greet someone

I feel ridiculous
in their drawing rooms
in their manners
in their curtseys
all their grimaces

I feel ridiculous
with the stu√ they tell
until in the afternoon they serve you
a little hot water
and some cakes with colds

I feel ridiculous
with the theories they spice
to the taste they need
their passions
their instincts open nightly,
like a mattress

I feel ridiculous
complicitous with them
a pimp with them
a killer with them
my hands frightful red
with the blood of their ci-vi-li-za-tion
—mary ann caws

Through the Half-Opened Window

on my disdain of the world
a breeze was rising
perfumed with stephanotis
while you drew towards yourself
the whole curtain

Such
do I see you
shall I always see you
drawing towards yourself