Wallace Stevens
(1879-1955)
Call the roller of big cigars,
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they used to wear. Let the boys
Bring flowers in last month’s newspapers.
Let be be finale of seems.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream,
Take from the dresser of deal,
Lacking the three knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her horny feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
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