By the Yawning Door
By the yawning door, thick and studded and painted in green,
I saw a square of light which fell
On a budding branch. And I made these verses
To fix the moment of a dream
As I sat at the table, eating beans
With the ghosts of my mother and my wife,
But that life with its long flame burned out long ago,
Leaving only a black and white, solitary lily
On the floor.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.