Seven Poems
Michael Hofmann, 4 September 1980
“... In return, you write me Latin tags, stoical philosophy boiled dry. I placed a knife under my white left breast (which you’ve never seen), broke the skin and sent you my heart’s blood on a handkerchief. You always feel sorry for your wife. Think of yourself for a change ... When my body is washed up round the next bend in the river, will that remind ... ”