From "The First, at the Last" by Marie Ponsot

All he undertook

goes under, under

the undergrowth he rose from

fly-boy, lovely

in his day.

All his clothes

— spruce suit & tie —

are underclothes

against ungrounded gray.

All his studies understudy

an unstudied play.

Under the under

of what I remember

we are both twenty

and except with each other

underemployed.

It is summer.

Under our butter, bread,

summer’s hunger satisfied.

Rating:

From "The First, at the Last"