After Godward's 'A Pompeian Bath'
You who demolish me, you whom I love
in the bath. On the white marble, water falls
and makes a sound, I'm hushed by your soft curves
and hypnotized by tapestries. The horses
run around the dome, odd geometries
create illusions. Her dark eyes are closed
and she looks down, her hips are holding red
blood that has a language. Her blushing hair
invites me to her pyramids, the animals
desire her like me. Look how the Sun
draws toward it flowers, how the iris opens
to the spectacle of sky! Her sensual figure
heaves of porcelain, her soft, pale arms
disclose her side and illuminate the room.
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