That dimpled skin my fingertips
with hesitation feel
And, tracing a profane ellipse,
thus slides the blade of steel
In brief rapine, it scores, it strips.
I kiss the lifting wheal –
A Sevillanas on my lips,
the juice beneath the peel.
A bold Phoenician’s gift-of-heart,
of sun’s horizon-rest;
A-sail from Jaffa, fresh and tart
this golden palimpsest
With cuneiform’s impressing dart
is dimpled, dappled, blessed
Of arcane meaning, lore, and art –
alive of love and zest!
The ball of day-fire set, became
a bloody tang of rust;
Give up your life in pleasure’s game,
shed golden curls in trust
Yet dare to share the harlot’s blame,
by avid wanton bussed –
As sweet as psalms, as sharp as shame –
so, naked, die you must!
Gold trophy winner
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