With a chaste heart,
with pure eyes,
I celebrate your beauty
holding the leash of blood
so that it might leap out
and trace your outline
where
you lie down in my ode
as in a land of forests, or in surf:
in aromatic loam
or in sea music.

Beautiful nude:
equally beautiful
your feet
arched by primeval tap
of wind or sound
your ears
small shells
of the splendid American sea;
your b______
of level plentitude full-
filled by living light;
your flying
eyelids of wheat
revealing
or enclosing
the two deep countries of your eyes.

The line of your shoulders
have divided
into pale regions
loses itself and blends
into the compact halves
of an apple,
continues separating
your beauty down
into two columns
of burnished gold, fine alabaster,
to sink into the two grapes of your feet,
where your twin symetrical tree
burns again and rises:
flowering fire, open chandelier,
a swelling fruit
over the pact of sea and earth.

From what materials -
agate, quartz, wheat -
did your body come together,
swelling like baking bread
to signal silvered
hills,
the cleavage of one petal,
sweet fruits of a deep velvet,
until alone remained,
astonished,
the fine and feminine form ?

It is not only light that falls
over the world,
spreading inside your body
its suffocated snow,
so much as clarity
taking its leave of you
as if you were
on fire within.

The moon lives in the lining of your skin.

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