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Reflections of an older Sappho
by Kate O'Brien
When my women have departed
trailing their young perfume
through the garden,
silver striking silver
as their singing charts their steps,
I come in from the balcony,
kick the sandals from my feet
and let my day gown fall.
In the leafy lamp-light
youth returns to breast and hips
plump radiance plump glamour.
Nipples perk expectant
of sky-soft lips and touch
that leaves a lightning trail.
Hot honey starts to flow
as quim remembers too,
and wants.
There's nothing else to do
but cool such wantonness
with silk of nightgown.
Sniff the bowl of freesias
and snuff out the light.
