PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

"Nulla tuarum audita mihi neque visa sororum—
O quam te memorem, virgo? Namque haud tibi voltus
mortalis, nec vox hominem sonat: O, dea certe . . .

sis felix, nostrumque leves, quaecumque, laborem,              
et, quo sub caelo tandem . . . ."

---Vergil, The Aeneid, I

She put on her tie-dyed teeshirt,
while the dead-count in Viet Nam was given.

She put on her baggy bell-bottom jeans
during discussions of Nixon's historical place.

Hunter-green socks seemed appropriate
during expressed concerns for environments.

Her parents had left the house early.
The thought of shoes had left her mind permanently.

After the newscast, she stepped outside to the backyard,
with a copy of recently dead Pound's Pisan Cantos.
Even a dead poet could not categorically plumb
the depth of an adolescent girl's delight
in the bounce of sunlight upon metallic colors
and the slow, subtle ways it faded her jeans.
But she most decidedly loved and craved
the warmth of the grass beneath her soles---
sheathed in semi-sheerness (except toes and heels)
Despite the lack of academic credentials,
she brought these pleasures to the old man's Cantos:
revivifying his words on the very page.
Old Possum's Quartets will play for her next.

Starward