PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

My Poet-Lover, gone off with his knights
upon an errand to the Savior's glory,
gives me, his Muse, time for an allegory.
I wait with patience:  he need not make haste.
In my rooms, in my evenings' privacy,
far from the peeping of perversity,
safe in this ancient castle by the shore,
I dance alone.  Bare, upward, from the waist;
clad only in this pair of sky-blue tights,
shoeless to rhythms of his poetry,
I move or pose as if to metaphor
(as given by the text) or simile.
And, when he comes back by the Lord's good graces,
I will add to our marital embraces
these pleasures also---and then he will meet
his own verse traced out by my stockinged feet.

Starward
 
[jlc]