Four or five hours, dodecasyllabic verse,
she took her clothes off in the Sunlight, above
the clouds were white and purple. The purpose
of her breath was lost somehow, the intent
of her love and movement is obscure. Odalisques
recline in frames on the walls, the technique
she uses to render color, the folding text
and texture of the veils. I am in love
with her disclosed beauty, with the vowels
her mouth pronounces, with the curvature
of hip and breast. I slept between the dreams
of a cold winter and the square mattress
in a dim light. She wasn't what I thought
she would be and that made all the difference.
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