Design For A Silver Box In The Shape Of A Melon, 1918 Poem by Jonathan Thirkield

In sheet metal or silver shallows
filled with these:
hollow, floating
where some assumed votives
would be lit. Or
lanterns.

Do you see the time of day? With still
some red to
flush the waders,
scatter against a few
boats, and fire
cannons

Distantly, first. When we see the flare,
we listen.
Sand buries at
our ankles. They appear,
the apples or
melons

Printed along the wallpaper, half
submerged in
their setting, brushed
dark with stems, the silver
flats folded in
fans. Too

Many of the waders grasp the stem
and pull off
the top of an
apple or melon, so
the base fills with
water

And sinks. Silver leaves from the stem. One
small woman's
pearl earring drops
like so many others
in the shallows.
Eardrops.


I met a woman in Viennese
glass. What was
in her jewel case?
A shade that turns over
a blue trellis.
Flower

Theater (or garden) on the flattened
silver wall,
a gray screen where
boats fire, the blush falls
and dyes a cherry
chime.