you are chiselled like rocks

that are eaten into by the sea.

With the turn and grasp of your wrist

and the chords' stretch,

there is a glint like worn brass.

The ridge of your breast is taut,

and under each the shadow is sharp,

and between the clenched muscles

of your slender hips.

From the circle of your cropped hair

there is light,

and about your male torse

and the foot-arch and the straight ankle.

II

You stand rigid and mighty—

granite and the ore in rocks;

a great band clasps your forehead

and its heavy twists of gold.

You are white—a limb of cypress

bent under a weight of snow.

 Prev. P 16/64 next