but heat, more passionate

of bone and the white shell

and fiery tempered steel.

EVADNE

I first tasted under Apollo's lips

love and love sweetness,

I Evadne;

my hair is made of crisp violets

or hyacinth which the wind combs back

across some rock shelf;

I Evadne

was mate of the god of light.

His hair was crisp to my mouth

as the flower of the crocus,

across my cheek,

cool as the silver cress

on Erotos bank;

between my chin and throat

his mouth slipped over and over.

Still between my arm and shoulder,

 Prev. P 51/71 next