Archive for July 24th, 2019

Wednesday, 24 July 2019

Like Pinocchio by Jean Farley

Your white house leans from the dark
and that wax-white, far-off you,
leaning from the window
has hair that hangs down all blue.

The long grass stems that tilt and cross
above the cricket’s breathing back
are whirring in this wind,
are, in this starlight, grey and black.

You have quietly closed your window
and I loiter here below.
A black night beetle cracks up against my knee:
I am jointed like Pinocchio.

Assassins will come as charcoal sacks
and hang me in an oak to jerk and spin.
Brittle as slate or a cricket’s shell,
my feet will clatter all night in the wind.


Date: 1951

By: Jean Farley (1928- )