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Bossa Novan Thoughts of K--

By
O! Cat-eyed nymph whose
Arrows have nipped me so
Intoxicatingly so warmly;
Who poured you?
The careless, frothy cream
Of young mother’s breastmilk--
Cinnamon-speckled so with
Angelkiss freckles-
Into such a shapely form?

O! To love you as you are
Without a word to know your
Lips by; just the dreamed flavor
Like the taste of wine drunk
Carelessly from the gourd-end of a
Brazilian’s saxophone.

O! To lie with you in careless
Silent, foreign love between
Lullaby lure of the guitarist’s quiet chords.
For your love I rise in a snaking
Plume of gray-turned-burgundy;
The hue of a wealthy man

Or the hue of a man with wine on his
Cool, cool lips.





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