by Donald Justice

by Donald Justice
     Papier-mache body； blue-and-black cotton jersey cover.
     Metal stand. Instructions included.
     Sears， Roebuck Catalogue
     O my coy darling， still
     You wear for me the scent
     Of those long afternoons we spent，
     The two of us together，
     Safe in the attic from the jealous eyes
     Of household spies
     And the remote buffooneries of the weather；
     So high，
     Our sole remaining neighbor was the sky，
     Which， often enough， at dusk，
     Leaning its cloudy shoulders on the sill，
     Used to regard us with a bored and cynical eye.
     How like the terrified，
     Shy figure of a bride
     You stood there then， without your clothes，
     Drawn up into
     So classic and so strict a pose
     Almost， it seemed， our little attic grew
     Dark with the first charmed night of the honeymoon.
     Or was it only some obscure
     Shape of my mother's youth I saw in you，
     There where the rude shadows of the afternoon
     Crept up your ankles and you stood
     Hiding your sex as best you could？
     Prim ghost the evening light shone through.