Intimacy

Since I have seen you do those intimate things That other men but dream of; lull asleep The sinister dark forest of your hair And tie the bows that stir on your calm breast Faintly as leaves that shudder in their sleep; Since I have seen your stocking swallow up, A swift black wind, the flame of your pale foot, And deemed your slender limbs so meshed in silk Sweet mermaid sisters drowned in their dark hair I have not troubled very much with food And wine has seemed like water from a well; Pavements are built of fire, grass of thin flames; All other girls grow dull as painted flowers, Or flutter harmlessly like coloured flies Whose wings are tangled in the net of leaves Spread by frail trees that grow behind the eyes.