I
Wrapped in a sheer white negligee
you are a fog-bound landscape
familiar but seen in a new light
transformed by seamless mist
tantalising, trimmed with tufts of cloud
I know that after the fog lifts
all will be sultry and warm
I can detect a sun-like breast
already radiating through the nylon dawn
II
in hot darkness, the transistor on
a five-note raga plays
five senses that ascend the scale of longing:
until the gasps of music peter out
and taut night is plucked limp
we are out of meaning's reach
your vellum blotted with invisible ink
my head at rest
between your breast's parentheses
Dennis O'Driscoll
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