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.