Frances and Wallace OrrSo I never do. Happy birthday Fran, wherever you are.

#31 (e.e. cummings, 100 selected poems, 1959)

if there are any heavens my mother will(all by herself)have
one.
It will not be a pansy heaven nor
a fragile heaven of lilies-of-the-valley but
it will be a heaven of blackred roses

my father will be(deep like a rose
tall like a rose)

standing near my
(swaying over her
silent)
with eyes which are really petals and see

nothing with the face of a poet really which
is a flower and not a face with
hands
which whisper
This is my beloved my

(suddenly in sunlight

he will bow,

& the whole garden will bow)

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