Café du Néant

Little tapers leaning lighted diagonally

Stuck in coffin tables of the Café du Néant

Leaning to the breath of baited bodies

Like young poplars fringing the Loire

 

Eyes that are full of love

And eyes that are full of kohl

Projecting light across the fulsome ambiente

Trailing the rest of the animal behind them

Telling of tales without words

And lies of no consequence

One way or another

 

The young lovers hermetically buttoned up in black

To black cravat

To the blue powder edge dusting the yellow throat

What color could have been your bodies

When last you put them away

 

Nostalgic youth

Holding your mistress's pricked finger

In the indifferent flame of the taper

Synthetic symbol of LIFE

In this factitious chamber of DEATH

The woman

As usual

Is smiling as bravely

As it is given to her to be brave

 

While the brandy cherries

In winking glasses

Are decomposing

Harmoniously

With the flesh of spectators

And at a given spot

There is one

Who

Having the concentric lighting focussed precisely upon her

Prophetically blossoms in perfect putrefaction

Yet there are cabs outside the door.