The poem
It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell's end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate oblation And say to you "quickly! turn them Once over and burn them".
Now I (no communist, heaven knows! Who have kept as my dearest right to close My tenth door after I've opened nine to the world, To unfold nine sepals holding one hard-furled) Shall - or shall try to - offer to you A communism of two ...
See, entry's yours; Here, the last door!