IN THE REVIEW

More Xenia Poems

We’d long missed the shoehorn, the little rusty tin horn that was always with us. It seemed shameful to be carrying Such an awful object into gilt and stucco hotels. It must have been at the Danieli I forgot to pack it in the suitcase …

Xenia (1964–1966)

To My Wife Dear little insect whom for some reason they called fly this evening almost at dark while I was reading the Deuteroisaiah you reappeared beside me, but without your glasses you could not see me nor could I without their …