my love is building a building
around you, a frail slippery
house, a strong fragile house
(beginning at the singular beginning
of your smile)a skilful uncouth
prison, a precise clumsy
prison(building thatandthis into Thus,
Around the reckless magic of your mouth)
my love is building a magic, a discrete
tower of magic and(as i guess)
when Farmer Death(whom fairies hate)shall
crumble the mouth-flower fleet
He’ll not my tower,
laborious, casual
where the surrounded smile
hangs
breathless
this poem is sentimental without being forthcoming. i have enjoyed E.E. Cummings for quite some time, and i have a collection of his for my own reading. I have come to understand most of this poet’s unique style, but am still learning. He’s an inspiration.