Who’d moderate
my taste
visceral, rate
and lay waste
to figure curves
so divine
it deserves
to be shrine
knelt to: altar
offered flower
does not alter
— shrivel — showers
blessings that swell
my mind, my heart
wherein dwells
judgment’s best part
— my hourglass
formed in rhyme
of diff’rent class,
chimes diff’rent time —
thirty-six
twenty-four
thirty-six
not final score
— and no, model
is not the one
skeletal,
skin and bone.
The whys and hows
— my goodness —
her charms arouse —
O, goddess!
