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An infinite line of crossed legs Sheathed in sheer and taut brown nylons Like the fast fountains round Eros The sheet of legs sprays out, smoothly, 'Neath truncated skirts; long and fine, Legs ooze over chairs in straight line. And next even shorter dresses Above rich coloured crepe stockings; Each stride reveals tops of stockings And the unsensational flesh, So smooth and stared at and stared on, Just a look and this row is gone. On the crown, soft, washed, coiffured hair- Brown, yellow, black; curled or flowing- That flirts with the breeze in the air, And higher-above the moist clouds Is the awed blue of the vast sky, While below goggles every eye. Gerald O'Hagan U.6. |
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