Phaedra mulls one over

dizzy-gillespie1

 

 

…imagined voices fail me
reaching out fingertips
feint falters fresh breath ceases
frosting sugar window pane—
but will it not hurt coy purity
long preserved immersed in strange pastimes
dressed up in white flowers curled up in a maze
suntanned cheeks stained modest saline?
Turn deaf ears
Dark at night prayers plead
cowardice makes mere conscience swagger
wild beasts track scented letters
those screaming cronies of crazed Bacchus,
brash lively nags rear ended up the Apple Cart
hear them now all fallen whelping
biodegraded in cardboard hoppers
yes clasp you knees up tight as divers
forced to take the plunge into the myrtle pool…