At Key West, From A Hotel Balcony

At such reports, you may just choose to scoff.
Vacationing, she walked along the shore,
this early evening:  sun-dress; sheer, tan hose
(the kind with reinforcements at the toes
and heels); long hair in wild cascades; no shoes,
of course.  The world cannot tell, in its prose,
such beauty:  only---always---poetry
can.  Only poems can utterly discover
such joy.  She did not take her stockings off
but dampened them by walking at the edge
where sand and waves' last reach may briefly meet.
The feel of this beneath her stockinged feet
inspired the pleasure on her face.  Our view's
precision, on the hotel's balcony,
was utterly unhurried and complete.
Such privileged moments make their verses best
since Stevens had his own, here, at Key West.
(Who fails to notice, in their own conceit,
must bear the loss.)  Meanwhile, this casual Muse,
still unshod, went to dinner with her lover.



Author's Notes/Comments: 

After Wallace Stevens' great poem, "The Idea Of Order At Key West."<

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