This poem is taken from PN Review 84, Volume 18 Number 4, March - April 1992.
Twelve Poems1
Weeks before the beard,
with the body bared
on the cherub's bed
still a perfect bud,
so proud of his bowed
genitals that bode
sweetly for a bride
or the boy ill-bred
enough to beat her bid,
how could he be bored
with the time he must bide
before turning bad?
2
Nothing justifies
the sentimental
madness of my teens:
...
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