Pale gold of the walls, gold
of the centers of daisies, yellow roses
pressing from a clear bowl. All day
we lay on the bed, my hand
stroking the deep
gold of your thighs and your back.
We slept and woke
entering the golden room together,
lay down in it breathing
quickly, then
slowly again,
caressing and dozing, your hand sleepily
touching my hair now.
We made in those days
tiny identical rooms inside our bodies
which the men who uncover our graves
will find in a thousand years,
shining and whole.
(Donald Hall)
More Poetry from Donald Hall:
Donald Hall Poems based on Topics: Man, Gold- Tubes (Donald Hall Poems)
- Ox Cart Man (Donald Hall Poems)
- The Things (Donald Hall Poems)
- Safe Sex (Donald Hall Poems)
- The Painted Bed (Donald Hall Poems)
- Je Suis une table (Donald Hall Poem)
Readers Who Like This Poem Also Like:
Based on Topics: Man Poems, Gold PoemsBased on Keywords: centers
- Tennants Anster Fair (Joseph Rodman Drake Poems)
- A Poem On The African Slave Trade. Addressed To Her Own Sex. Part II (Mary Birkett Card Poems)
- The Battle Of The Lake Regillus (Thomas Babbington Macaulay Poems)
- Paradise Regain'd : Book I. (John Milton Poems)
- Paradise Regain'd : Book II. (John Milton Poems)