whisper of yellow globes
gleaming on lamp-posts that sway
like bootleg licker drinkers in the fog
and let your breath be moist against me
like bright beads on yellow globes
telephone the power-house
that the main wires are insulate
(her words play softly up and down
dewy corridors of billboards)
then with your tongue remove the tape
and press your lips to mine
till they are incandescent
(Jean Toomer)
More Poetry from Jean Toomer:
- Harvest Song (Jean Toomer Poems)
- Seventh Street (Jean Toomer Poems)
- Georgia Dusk (Jean Toomer Poems)
- Banking Coal (Jean Toomer Poems)
- Song of the Son (Jean Toomer Poems)
- For M.W. (Jean Toomer Poems)