The Wholesome Satyr

(i)

Pale parchment
of a darker moon
over Basra,
like a veiled face,
stares translucently.

(ii)

The Sun's refulgent iris,
tarries behind imploring clouds,
hung low over the horizon at dusk.


"In those half-lidded eyes, O Meer!
there is all the inebriation of wine".


(iii)

The night is a pregnant lesbian;
taut membrane stretching
from Pole to pitched pole.
What if she gave birth?


(iv)

It's 4:13.
The hair fringes her face
in ripples; the grays
are 'white horses';
and I would not dare kiss her
lest I wake her....

....and we have to make love.
It's 4:15.

Labels: Nocturne