sister poem

what was it the engines said
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
in an old chamber softly lit
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
by the rude bridge
very well, you liberals
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
she must go back, she said
for these white arms about my neck
there's one that i once loved so much
up to her chamber window
passing through huddled and ugly walls
darkest, strangest mystery