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Living in Sin
(Version A)(This is the version in the text)
She had thought the studio would keep itself;
no dust upon the furniture of
love.
Half heresy, to wish the taps less
vocal,
the panes relieved of grime. A plate of
pears,
a piano with a Persian shawl, a cat
stalking
the picturesque
amusing mouse
had risen at his urging.
Not that at five each morning each
separate
stair would writhe
under the milkman's tramp; that morning
light
so coldly would delineate the
scraps
of last night's cheese and three
sepulchral
bottles;
that on the kitchen shelf among the
saucers
a pair of beetle-eyes would fix her own
--
envoy from some black village in
the
moldings…
Meanwhile, he, with a yawn,
sounded the dozen notes upon the keyboard,
declared it out of tune, shrugged at
the
mirror,
rubbed his beard, went out for
cigarettes;
while she, jeered by the minor
demons,
pulled back the sheets and made the bed
and
found
a towel to dust the table-top,
and let the coffee-pot boil over on the
stove.
By evening she was back in love
again,
though not so wholly but throughout
the
night
she woke sometimes to feel the
daylight
coming
like a relentless milkman up the stairs.
[1955?]
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Living in Sin
(Version B)
She had thought the studio would keep itself;
No dust upon the furniture of love.
Half heresy, to wish the taps less
vocal,
The panes relieved of grime. A plate of
pears,
A piano with a Persian shawl, a cat
Stalking the picturesque amusing mouse
Had been her vision when he pleaded
"Come."
Not the at five each separate stair
would
writhe
Under the milkman's tramp; that morning
light
So coldly would delineate the scraps
Of last night's cheese and blank sepulchral
bottles;
That on the kitchen shelf among the
saucers
A pair of beetle-eyes would fix her
own--
Envoy from some black village in
the
moldings...
Meanwhile her night's companion, with a
yawn
Sounded a dozen notes upon the keyboard,
Declared it out of tune, inspected whistling
A twelve hours' beard, went out
for
cigarettes;
While she, contending with a woman's
demons,
Pulled back the sheets and made the bed
and
found
A fallen towel to dust the table-top,
And wondered how it was a man could wake
From night to day and take the day
for
granted.
By evening she was back in love
again,
But not so wholly but throughout the
night
She woke sometimes to feel the
daylight
coming
Like a relentless milkman up the stairs.
[1955?]
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