Alfred Kreymborg, ed. Others for 1919. 1920.
Donald Evans
Dinner at the Hotel De La Tigresse Verte
A
Of the Hotel de la Tigresse Verte,
With their silk-swathed ankles softly kissing,
They were certain that they had forever
Imprisoned fickleness in the vodka—
They knew they had found the ultimate pulse of love.
To them from above, and over the roof’s edge
Danced a grey moon.
And through her ran trepidant mutinies of desire
With treacheries of emotion. Her voice vapoured:
“In which room shall it be to-night, darling?”
His eyes swept the broad façade, the windows,
Tier upon tier, and his lips were regnant:
“In every room, my beloved!”