Endymion

David Solway

O the linen undulations that she sheds
And O her hills and plains and low plateaus
clouding off to revelation
And O the creamy latitudes of her inside vales
seen from close as she turns
And O the sweetly rumpled ovals framing her secret entrance
And O how she opens herself discreetly behind
with a lacework of fingers
parting amplitudes of delight
And O the plum-and-amber of her delicate portal flesh
as soft to the touch
as a viburnum leaf in Fall
And O the velvety flume of her grace where
I delve and labor to be lost
And O the daintily rilled and dimpled half moons
closing around me below
And O the supple camber of her spine
against my chest
completing the circuit
And O her sharp cries turning like music
to the sultry contraltos of perversity
And O the tidal ebb of her lunar enveloping calm
and the lull of her bedded anchorings
And O her rounded combers
now cradling the cave of quietness where
so domiciled in beatitude
I have delved and labored to be found again
O sheltered in the circle of her dark and light.

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David Solway's works copyright © to the author.