Curve 3

Under the designer label satin of dawn, the color of summer when one closes one’s eyes

it was her true self I saw, in her original nudity, among gardens and tortures—blood and flowers—

 her long oiled body gleaming in the shadows like a sleeping  
                                                                               python.
Tresses of pearls were fastened to her temples, and fell to the corners of her mouth

           which was rosy as a half-open pomegranate. 
                      Our blood, enamored of its tyrant

                               flows for the eternal swarming of desire.