Earrings and a bracelet
on the right arm—how
could be such minutiae
that speak in refined signs
still be honored or espied
along with the pearly beads
that form a collar’s string
above, and yet quite close
when her beauty as a whole
presses forth its cobra’s hood
that leads eyes down—on to
the silky, fluent, shiny route,
sinking under lifted knees—
the black light’s relaxed maw?
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