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The Baths of Eros
[center]The Baths of Eros
Lit by an afternoon from the skylight,
a slight & barefoot servant girl
her plaited hair bound up
and secured with a lyre's harp
moves from guest to guest
who wait & mime in the
reception hall of
an Athenian bathhouse.
Bending low, she offers a tray
as each man takes a cup to sip from,
peering over the rim
musing at the heat underfoot
from fires beneath stone works
as a lesser fire stokes those who
watch her with eyes steaming,
melting their cynicism.
The neckline of her tunic folds open
un-spooling her fragrance,
evoking visions of its offerings
drawn to & leaning forward,
feeling like the beguiling child
who sees his reflection in the
sweet water of a deep well
before falling in without a sound.
[/center]
Lit by an afternoon from the skylight,
a slight & barefoot servant girl
her plaited hair bound up
and secured with a lyre's harp
moves from guest to guest
who wait & mime in the
reception hall of
an Athenian bathhouse.
Bending low, she offers a tray
as each man takes a cup to sip from,
peering over the rim
musing at the heat underfoot
from fires beneath stone works
as a lesser fire stokes those who
watch her with eyes steaming,
melting their cynicism.
The neckline of her tunic folds open
un-spooling her fragrance,
evoking visions of its offerings
drawn to & leaning forward,
feeling like the beguiling child
who sees his reflection in the
sweet water of a deep well
before falling in without a sound.
[/center]
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