Classic Poem

Upon the fallen
cheek

a gauzy down—
And on

the nape
—indecently

a mat
of yellow hair

stuck with
celluloid

pins
not quite

matching it
—that's

two shades
darker

at the roots
Hanging

from the ears
the hooks

piercing the
flesh—

gold and semi-
precious

stones—
And in her

lap the dog
(Youth)

resting
his head on

the ample
shoulder his

bright
mouth agape

pants restlessly