The Thin People
|The Thin People|
|They are always with us, the thin people
Meager of dimension as the gray people
On a movie-screen. They
It was only in a movie, it was only
Were small that they famished and
Out their stalky limbs again though peace
Under the meanest table.
They found their talent to persevere
Into our bad dreams, their menace
But a thin silence.
Empty of complaint, forever
The insufferable nimbus of the lot-drawn
So weedy a race could not remain in dreams,
In the contracted country of the head
Keep from cutting fat meat
Set foot nightly in her yard
The moon to a rind of little light.
Themselves as the dawn
Of the world comes clear and fills with color.
Frieze of cabbage-roses and cornflowers pales
Their withering kingship.
We own no wildernesses rich and deep enough
Battalions. See, how the tree boles flatten
If the thin people simply stand in the forest,
And grayer; not even moving their bones.