The spring, recumbent in the valley,
Has inflamed the lord of heaven,
Wroth and foaming, venting fury
On the sweet pubescent belly
Of a smiling nine-year old
Schoolgirl belle dame sans merci.
She, the mistress of the fountain—
Tempter of the sky defiler—
Left her limbs in some disorder
As she slept in plaid attire,
Open to the sky and smiling,
Mirror smooth (the sweet dissembler).
Her molten skin was bathed in splendor
(Moutonnée—imbued with beauty,
Branded with the sky’s own blazon,
Cloud-tattooed and heaven-complexioned,
Steeped, infused and impregnated
By the God of ageless summers,
Crescent, youthful, swollen, spilling,
Pansied, pied and gilliflowered,
Fetlock-deep in river sedges,
Where the liquid noon reposes
On her gnat-embroidered fringes
And her margins stitched with skimmers—
Gaily carpeted with duckweed—
While the water winds and surges
Through her eely-throated channels—
Dappled like a painted pony,
Exuberant, enthralled, coquettish).
First, the tarnished mirror darkens
As the storm cloud’s violet pouncet
Pounces on the dirtied water.
Distressed and angry, turbid, swirling,
The river’s back erects its storm quills.
There is a whipping and a foaming
Then the water licks its bruises,
Stills, and smooths its rushy tresses.
Honey of indignation glistens
On the river’s lips, defiant,
Hectic, panting, lightly parted,
Shrouded in a virgin’s pallor,
Burning on the wounded water
Where the woodland smokes and rustles
In the evening’s light and fire.
Her smoldering heart is dark green agate.
Shafts of sunlight burst and splinter.
With a chill and slippery shiver
She shows her sky side, fish-flash silver.
3/7/2014
