Deva Diana Arlecchina
Watery moon, a-waxing
(soft in) the bright waning sky —
will you erupt in ruby
ablaze torching the stars,
or watch in pale livery aloof?
Affection none do you give man,
save thy fickle indignation, indicating Affectation
born of breeding-met desire
inside the slumbering lotus flower.
The which of these you truly feel
is oft a time by clouds concealed,
your veilèd dress of somber court
discarded ere the hunting sport, wherein
the nettled tides obey, easing back to pin your prey
across, beneath, and past the baying dunes laid bare;
these cower ere the time must come,
when hunting done you do recall your hounds
and let the waves once more, consuming, fall.
Arlecchina, how is't you present such
duplicitous faces with(out) a masque?
Your coloring so variates as still
to censor men's good wisdom wherein they
try vainly to attain to thy good face,
and yet the favor so professed by thee
in naked thoughts resides apart the realm
where masculinity may lie untouched.
Nude the mind while armored soul and body,
defense redundant after godly guise
and guise is your great tragicomic act:
a layered face, within, within, within
Matryoshka doll your heavens-gracing skin.
Gender:
Points: 3528
Reviews: 94