Thinking of Prokofief

Thinking of You Prokofief

The steam settled into the atmosphere
steam in atmosphere
it was cold; so the steam did not move
it became lonely as a field of daffodils
on the earth we kept looking up
on the horizon there was admiration
those waltzes.

And the ivory of our lids felt vaporous
as if crevices were gained in the shell
where our eyes kept their hoods

Thinking of you Prokofief
that tricky snow outside makes a steam indoors
and the china tea we brew keeps us quick
as Prokofief
whose doors slam.

Steam never lessens its latitude

in the sky
like Prokofief
while many cars creep over the bridge sweating
finally equipped
with their Mahler treads.

Barbara Guest (1920-2006)