Love Sweetness

I first tasted under Apollo's lips,

love and love sweetness,

I, Evadne;

my hair is made of crisp violets

or hyacinth which the wind combs back

across some rock shelf;

I, Evadne,

was made of the god of light.

 

His hair was crisp to my mouth,

as the flower of the crocus,

across my cheek,

cool as the silver-cress

on Erotos bank;

between my chin and throat,

his mouth slipped over and over.

 

Still between my arm and shoulder,

I feel the brush of his hair,

and my hands keep the gold they took,

as they wandered over and over,

that great arm-full of yellow flowers.

 

~ Hilda Doolittle. Evadne.

Done