" Our little party
Got under way as best it could. The twigs
Unclenched, the greedy rosebuds caked with smut.
The ill-knit creatures, now in hues
Of sunstroke, mulberry, white of clown,
Yellow of bile, bruise-blacks-and-blues,
Stumped outward, waving matchstick arms,
Colliding, poking, hurt, in tears "

― James Merrill , Collected Poems