She

In this shadedness from burning afternoon,
I lie beside you
close against the dusk
beating with its rhythm
feeling with abstract along the silk
but took the sap of warning

my other you,
and, as she stands there confidence and pride,
the nerves flashing in her pale body
and, as I stare beyond her head at the sky
and tell her why she should be proud,

She laughs out loud and deep within can lightly cry

And now there is you, mark and complement of adult life,
and, when I talk, it is to that proud and confident you,
and, when I lie beside you in limb-lock,
it is the dusk that comes into mind and the slick silk,
and, when you were ripe with children and aroused, your milk flowed
in the secret of the night,
but who I was with then, I did not know.

And nothing was known until one night came
to me alone and heaven-still and I saw light
that caressed along my veins
that , and I felt, and I felt, entered my soul, till
then ever unkown, and I felt but could not
see the you that I would meet after the cool,
tense play of that new-late day’s dawning,
see you in the majesty of morning
and know you from the caress along my veins.