Poem

16 february


Linda, your birthday was the worst one. I awoke
with your name on my lips but the room was already
tilting and spinning. noxema cold waving hot skin
my hands two red paws radiating violet threads ribs
peeling intestine shuddering room rising and swell-
ing. One tender moment the fever lifts the overhead
fan a white propeller shifts spraying shadows across
whitewashed walls shells my left arm and I drift. A
child holds on to a snowflake candles illuminate
your trusting face. happy birthday my sister, syr-
upy hairs stick to my cheek purple spine merging
plastic sheet. happy birthday sister, I reach relief my
burnoose yards of cheesecloth cocoon to roll up in
water a distant pitcher liquid streaming golden
stars so aware of teeth and temples and the heat
avenging moving in like squatter laughing with
huge white teeth like tombstone and so aware of the
temple on he hill surrounded by jackangels.

hotel internacional mexico
16.2.74

Patti Smith from Early Work 1970-1979