". . . ingenium nobis ipsa puella facit."
---Propertius, Elegies, II:1
Come into my poems' penetralia, this pavilion
in which you will not need to wear shoes.
No splinters or rough surface will injure your bare feet.
Glide over the surface with alacrity:
the thorns and glass shards of perfidy
are left outside in the world beyond this site.
Let my poems kneel before you with graitutde.
Let their expressions of joy fall at and upon your feet.
Later, when you have relax, feel free
to change your casual style to that long-hemmed, side-slit sun-dress
and underneath it the lace garter belt
to hold up theose tan, sheer stockings.
The sun will revel ti caress your stockings; perfect translucence;
while I, in my turn, will ardently kiss
the softly, wholly opaque, reinforcements
that (eagerly, I really think) enclose
your delicate, beautiful heels and toes.
Starward