BARE SHATTER’D HEART

Sabres come of the eyes well
that Tennyson bird
dismay’d, my mouth is gladder of my charge
right work, these thunder’d loves
like a gold cannon heart
behind them, and the reason?
A light heart and a pomegranate
in its mouth, and
an apple tree, singing;
life rode onward, like fruit–
and me
blunder’d into death.