I
Her arms smooth and clear-skinned in the shadow
of dark tulle, amply perfumed and lips
of carmine-red—I see the tips
of her breasts heave coming and going.
II
Store twilight, fabrics piled high on the counter
She leans forward with a look full of desire
I see her blouse opening supplely
and begin to sink—deep and fair.
III
Her legs long and smooth— she laughs and lies
limply backwards— I see how deep and far the lines
of her legs recede and
reflect on this with face turned away.
IV
She giggles my way through the mirror, attending
to the effect of her made-up eyes
What do you think, she says slowly, did I
get my eyebrows on right?
Anna Blaman (1905 - 1960) The Netherlands
Translated by Cliff Crego
Source: Picture-Poems
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