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The Party

The obscene hostess, mincing in the hall,

Gathers the guests around a crystal ball.

It is on the whole an exciting moment;

Mrs.

Lefevre stares with her one good eye;

A friendly abdomen rubs against one’s back; “Interesting,” a portly man is heard to sigh.

A somewhat unconvincing oriental leers Redundantly; into the globe he peers,

Mutters a word or two and stands aside.

The glass grows cloudy with sulphorous fumes;

Beads rattle, latecomers giggle near the door.

A scene forms in the glass; silence invades the rooms.

The oriental glances up, conceals surprise At such immediate success.

Our eyes Stare at the planes that fill the swelling globe,

Smoke-blue; blood, shelltorn faces.

Suddenly a drum Begins its steady beat, pursues us even here:

Death, and death again, and all the wars to come.

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Weldon Kees

Harry Weldon Kees (February 24, 1914 – disappeared July 18, 1955) was an American poet, painter, literary critic, novelist, playwright, jazz pia…

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