Unto that Night from the Salt Mines of the Day

 

Some wardrobes, clothes, some dresses—

are subtle speeches, talks, or almost verses,

or songs even—by bringing home or closer

forward beauty’s fluttering & elusive points.

 

Once upon a time—on a summer night it was—

one such outfit was on a woman on a local bus,

so soft and thin that one would swear it must

have been woven into silk by entrancing moves.

 

And nothing else was let to foil its pure, finest,

eloquence—except for the marvel of the smoothly

marbled skin, fluent and swelling in fresh tenderness

 

and beats of breath and coils of breeze—and the moon

halted in the sky poured its silver glaze on the rhapsody

and rapture—through kiss and touch in that tangled web.