For this she starred her eyes with salt And scooped her temples thin, Until her face shone pure of fault From the forehead to the chin. In coldest crucibles of pain Her shrinking flesh was fired And smoothed into a finer grain To make it more desired. Pain left her lips more clear than glass; It colored and cooled her hand. She lay a field of scented grass Yielded as pasture land. For this her loveliness was curved And carved as silver is: For this she was brave: but she deserved A better grave than this. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FINE DAY by KATHERINE MANSFIELD CONTRA MORTEM: THE WATER by HAYDEN CARRUTH THE SOCIOLOGY OF TOYOTAS AND JADE CHRYSANTHEMUMS by HAYDEN CARRUTH MY DEATH AS A GIRL I KNEW by JAMES GALVIN AFTER WRITING A POEM by DAVID IGNATOW NEW YEAR'S EVE by DAVID IGNATOW ISOLATION by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON |