Once the queen of perfect morning came to me
All
shivery and shine she said I have lost so many
Blue
flecks I’ve lost beauties from my eyes—O
Surely
she said this before memory and far away
Like
a spider’s thread or inexhaustible amazement
Dawn strictly danced to the beating of her heart
The
sky was forbidden to praise thunder or to enjoy
Snow
falling as it used to fall breathlessly beneath
Two
old willows where once or twice I think
I
kissed her and maybe then I heard a few winged
Voices briefly sing—a
deliriously forgettable chorus
All
of this to be sure in the nakedest of nakedness
The
nudist nudity her blonde hair and those white
Shoes
sculpting her as in cold marble and as sacred
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