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Epigram: Nine Lines Of Seven Syllables
[after the theology, if not the style, of Gwenaltt]
Your sheer white stockings reflect
candles' light more purely than
the moon reflects the sun, and
shift your almost nakedness
to the pleasures of desire.
Nothing now can intrude on
the soft, sheer, sensual stride
of your love's slow caresses
on my unworthy flesh.
Starward
[jlc]
