THE YOUNG GIRL AT THEATER (fragment)

And while you leaned
impatient on the abyss,
questioning

the dusty purple,
I saw your beret bravely aslant,
your swift and serious eyes,
your soft

straight careless hair, oh huntress,
and I was struck with terror at the dreadfulness upon your
fragile shoulders:
morning fell

in floods of light,
in fugues and murmurings,
and nothing now
could shelter you from youth