seated in shadow on your curved cream floor,
fit a gardenia in your flourishing
hair, your silhouette a mosaic, pure
marble sprinkling your dark gown, nourishing
tips of your near-bare breasts, one imploring,
nudging out, ancient portrait of goddess
ignoring her voyeur while adoring
his watching, letting your crystal bodice
hover, inviting drama through silence.
Don’t I recall you, you now in the moon,
in some recent setting, your reticence
and soft gaze? Yes, of course, across our room
of crowded joy, only today. You waved
hello and walked away. I wish you’d stayed.
Roger Armbrust
June 30, 2010
