Two, of course there are two. br It seems perfectly natural now—— br The one who never looks up, whose eyes are lidded br And balled¸ like Blake's. br Who exhibits br br The birthmarks that are his trademark—— br The scald scar of water, br The nude br Verdigris of the condor. br I am red meat. His beak br br Claps sidewise: I am not his yet. br He tells me how badly I photograph. br He tells me how sweet br The babies look in their hospital br Icebox, a simple br br Frill at the neck br Then the flutings of their Ionian br Death-gowns. br Then two little feet. br He does not smile or smoke. br br The other does that br His hair long and plausive br Bastard br Masturbating a glitter br He wants to be loved. br br I do not stir. br The frost makes a flower, br The dew makes a star, br The dead bell, br The dead bell. br br Somebody's done for.