Parading

It is one minute until you must appear,

shorter than most people,
draped in a grass-green serape,
draped in a grass-green serape,
shorter than most people,
shorter than most people,
more beautiful, baleful . . .
more beautiful, baleful . . .
pressing a hand to my forehead,
pressing a hand to my forehead,
slipping into my famished pocket
slipping into my famished pocket
the elixir, the silver needle. —James Tate
the elixir, the silver needle.
—James Tate

atoms

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