Unlyric Love Song

It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first:

To offer you now at last my least and my worst:

Minor, absurd preserves,

The shell's end-curves,

A document kept at the back of a drawer,

A tin hidden under the floor,

Recalcitrant prides and hesitations:

To pile them carefully in a desparate oblation

And say to you "quickly! turn them

Once over and burn them".

Now I (no communist, heaven knows!

Who have kept as my dearest right to close

My tenth door after I've opened nine to the world,

To unfold nine sepals holding one hard-furled)

Shall; or shall try to; offer to you

A communism of two ...

See, entry's yours;

Here, the last door!

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