your slightest look easily will
unclose me
though I have closed myself as
fingers,
you open always petal by petal
myself as Spring opens
(touching skillfully, mysteriously)
her first rose
(i do not know what it is about you
that closes and opens;
only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than
all roses)... nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands
Somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond
3 comments:
does anyone else think this is a poem about deflowering une jeune fille? non?
well a woody allen character quoted it ...he was in love with his wife's younger sister ...so that may be correct...
i love it, in all of its perverted glory!
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