In the Golden Age
butterflies mated with humans.
From this came need for light landings
and yearnings to fly.
*
What is she trying to tell me
lightly traipsing from room to room
in nothing but tiny white socks?
*
The brain, vast sexual organ,
fed by fantasy, by images, yes,
for centuries
engorged by words.
*
mummy wrapped words of Sappho:
may that shining girl
come to me
*
Her beauty
beneath a gauzy blouse and skirt...
unclothed already she would be
the meaning
without its poem.
*
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