Spiritist

THREE PORTRAITS

SPIRITIST

Seemingly schooled in sadness and champagne,

He stands with grave unearthliness in space,

Examining the aethers of his brain

With vague disinterest but certain grace.

His fine and futile fingers lightly flick

The ash from off his yawning cigarette,

As swaying slightly on his walking-stick

He wanders into worlds . . . unseen . . . unset.

Errant as alcohol and atmosphere

He balances on brandy and expanse,

Intangibly detached from there or here

But quite prepared for either circumstance,

In the event that chance or destiny

Should take him to eternity or tea.