There is more than meets the eye
in the beautiful form of a woman,
the sinuous shapes that clothes sharpen
or limbs reveal, the sublimity
of her head of hair, facial features
that startle this world into a sense
of its worth, wherever she looks it turns
in acknowledgment, in raptures
it lifts her into the gaze of every man
she passes, dreamlike she seems; but in her
is the continuum of her mortal nature,
utterance of the commonplace, and plan
for living, her nudity in the shower
is basic awareness, it remains with her,
a lodestar in the battering of appraisal
as something else, what is made of her.
