She stood in her summer arsonage, complete; Her arms shoved beauty to the brink. In the rapt child-sway of her body blessed, She liked to watch it totter. Allocate of praise, alone in lividness, Her Cleopatra charms derange a face Made numberless, the legion losses Summer and moonlight conspire to take In the shrill seconds preceding birth, Blazing awkward apt adjectives of light, Explosions of burnt rose, blasphemies of sight: Her embarrassed breasts consoled a sigh. With bicycle moods of syllables, wise Soft sofa ministries of age displayed,--- The scrubbed violation of too many hands Already resting after The aching dilation of too many years. Opinionless as steam in vapor rage The undiluted, vast minions of grey age Remain and inculcated the glass world's verdure. O mirror-girl who swam with me! Your otter plash alarms, quelled seemings, balms No untethered slash of wind will solve With treasured fingers, knives of burnt cellophane, Remain to dissipate The slight indignations under fiber lies that Display and disingenuate The twenty mobile armistices of face In alcohol alacrities of soul. You blinked There, in antechamber emptiness of air, By a blank slant sea Shelving its green shoals in coral fashion Against the petticoat interiors of railroad stations: The lazy, shoved accoutrements of waiting. We were everywhere at once, one summer. Her working woman's apple-soul Daunts momentously the unworked opinions of stars ---Daunts in a moment's unmaking The slipped and gradual symmetry of stars. white velvet siftings of the filter moon Slept in lonely pages of the leaves; Sister swelter of the sapphire sun forgot, they became The downward shaft and symbol of desire.