Woman by a Pool
I’m the Black Narcissus of your darkest dream,
Who you are in pleasure, the night you are inside,
The calm, slow stirring of a hand that’s not
Afraid of what is swimming there, not so still
As I am still, as you are, when I am near.
Exploding stars have darkened me to this
And all the world attends on me, and flowers.
I dream this waking dream for you and while
I burn and come to life and never end, you’ll
Live and never die this never hour we’re in.
Alan Clark is an artist and writer who lives in Maine, and whenever possible in Mexico. His books are Guerrero and Heart's Blood, set in pre-Conquest Mexico, and Where They Know, poems. He has shown his art in both countries. His poems have appeared in The Caribbean Writer, Little Star Journal, Adirondack Review, Zocalo Poets and more.
The Ekphrastic Review
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