Siesta
The city leans on harbour walls
and dreams. Waves leap and gleam
then lap against the stones
like fawning dogs. Yachts sway,
rigging softly jigs pleading for attention.
On the balcony she sits enthroned,
shadowed in a polygon of light,
smooths pages, glances down,
smiles languidly as Nikos, parking,
fails to dent his brothers wing.
The citys eyelids rattle down
and all subsides in silent heat.
The sun creeps round; its stealthy fingers
brush her foot, her leg, her breast.
Some flies swoop down to catch her scent,
and try to paddle on her skin; she flicks,
they soar and swoop again.
She surrenders for a while
then they repeat the game.
I watch from the shadows, too far away
to touch, but close enough to hear
her breathe, to hear her sigh, to see
the billows in her hair stirred by the breeze.
She is complete, both stone and flesh,
goddess and woman, not to be caressed
or carved, beyond the artists scope.
Reluctantly I tiptoe out, to see
the still world come to life.
The city leans on harbour walls
and dreams. Waves leap and gleam
then lap against the stones
like fawning dogs. Yachts sway,
rigging softly jigs pleading for attention.
On the balcony she sits enthroned,
shadowed in a polygon of light,
smooths pages, glances down,
smiles languidly as Nikos, parking,
fails to dent his brothers wing.
The citys eyelids rattle down
and all subsides in silent heat.
The sun creeps round; its stealthy fingers
brush her foot, her leg, her breast.
Some flies swoop down to catch her scent,
and try to paddle on her skin; she flicks,
they soar and swoop again.
She surrenders for a while
then they repeat the game.
I watch from the shadows, too far away
to touch, but close enough to hear
her breathe, to hear her sigh, to see
the billows in her hair stirred by the breeze.
She is complete, both stone and flesh,
goddess and woman, not to be caressed
or carved, beyond the artists scope.
Reluctantly I tiptoe out, to see
the still world come to life.
