Days Go By, And Still I Think Of You

The weekly poem for Wapiti, and with thanks to Liisa:

For Proserpine

Our purple tongues that testify
The pomegranate has been broken
Are stained, their roots and buds are stained, with the shy
Fruity pleasure of us, met, spoken.

(I shall remember the days
of my youth and your beautiful new ways.)

In fierce decay I'll find a stripe
Of honey sweetening the tart
Old brain. But shall I know again such ripe
Beauty of the burst, dark heart?

(I'll think of my absurd,
Impossible, pledged, serious word.)

____Stanley Kunitz

"a stripe of honey sweetening the tart old brain". I like that a lot.