Author Information
At Ephesus, 5
That solstice, at the Senator's new wading pool,
you said the water looked so clear and cool,
and so freshly inviting . . . you could not refuse.
You giggled shyly, and kicked of your shoes;
and then, demurely, from the marbled edge, stepped down.
So gorgeous, you could make stone statues drool:
clad in that floor-length, flouncy, opaque, off-white gown;
and, with it, what, in drawl, you call your "hose'
(silk leggings, cut to your exact contours, on Cos;
sheer to the doubled weave around your toes).
These drew the slowly rising dampness from below
the long hem you held just above your ankles
(as much as, in your modesty, you deigned to show
with chastity that disappoints or rankles
assorted perverts, but not me). I, much, enjoyed
your happy frolic without slide or slip.
I thought of how Christ Jesus keeps us from the world,
like that: safe from concealed snares, sharp darts hurled,
or slick, subtle temptations cunningly deployed
against His people, and their fellowship.
Sweet, shoeless Muse: again, your casual simile,
embodied, has inspired my poetry.
