Well, you could call it "Triple Crown," obviously, or--less
obviously but maybe too high-kentiboshically--"Epsom Down."
Derby Gull
>[untitled]
>
>All three of my peaks glance upward;
>a gentle triocular cupola is crowned;
>and in sharp-edged empyreal beams
>someone rotates around.
>
>They are like three wells... and water
>will suddenly swim to the brink of mutiny;
>whenever a pail is lowered in, it must be
>very carefully, very tenderly.
>
>Note: I was told by Elena's friend Tom Epstein that this poem has
>something to do with the unusual spirals of hair growth on her
>scalp (three crowns, so to speak). But I think this poem has more
>to do with Russian spiritual history, Petersburg-Moscow relations, and
>the mutiny of the Streltsy.
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