A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight
They mouth love's language. Gnash
The thirteen teeth
Your lean jaws grin with. Lash
Your itch and quailing, nude greed of the flesh.
Love's breath in you is stale, worded or sung,
As sour as cat's breath,
Harsh of tongue.
This grey that stares
Lies not, stark skin and bone.
Leave greasy lips their kissing. None
Will choose her what you see to mouth upon.
Dire hunger holds his hour.
Pluck forth your heart, saltblood, a fruit of tears.
Pluck and devour!
James Joyce's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (A Memory of the Players in a Mirror at Midnight by James Joyce )
- Assimilating Thoughts, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- 17 March 2014, Shri R Brahma
- An Ode To Odes Of Olde (Love & Woe), Tad Russell
- 15 March 2014, Shri R Brahma
- Unknown Mysteries, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Folding Teardrops, RoseAnn V. Shawiak
- Tapped......, PARTHA SARATHI PAUL
- September's Embrace, Albrando Lucino
- 10 March 2014, Shri R Brahma
- Boredom, Fatima Nusairat
Poem of the Day
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Annabel Lee, Edgar Allan Poe
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Invictus, William Ernest Henley
- As I Grew Older, Langston Hughes
- Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening, Robert Frost
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
Sheldon Allan Silverstein
(September 25, 1930 – May 10, 1999)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
- Heather Burns
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)