Emanuel E Garcia - Aphrodite Rising

She sang out her heart Quietly, in the corner of the shop, Among the figurines Not for lovers promises, Or for the rains cleansing The sidewalk of its trampled petals And unholy sweat, Or for a body comely and unscarred (It was and it wasnt) I just happened to be passing through When I heard her husky voice, Soft and careless, with a heat That left me nothing of myself That afternoon of Aphrodite Rising from the most unlikely Unexpected seas The last hill on my left was white Even at dusk, and leafless spires Marked my passage, every breath A shroud They kept saying it was all deceit, That kisses could never be innumerable, That desire had only so much steam, That there were other things Yet your wine was on my lips Long after we had fled, And on your lips, I knew, was mine I listened to the evening With its paring down, and then The night And as I traced my steps I stole a glimpse between the trees, My hunted huntress It was only a matter of time She forced my hand From the pretty pictures Worth every auction cent for light Past a sleepy watchman To a basement gallery of shards Nothing was ever easy with her We moved slowly among the broken urns Glazed with fragmentary tales of appetite, Intrigue, and through the rows of reliquaries And their guarded hints Until she turned a red face Straight out of the blue To ask how I listened to music With all three ears, I quipped That earned me a sarcastic frown And a lecture on intervals, On pitch and time, and the lace-like Synthesis of bits she said she always heard, Always, Forever changing tune But I was following her neck as it arched, Was it or wasnt it, I wondered, A line, a crease, hard to tell In the dimness of ancient strife, At the base of her throat Maybe the odour of millennia Had gotten to me, or what I had and hadnt said About myself these several months, And a growing thirst, But I began to sweat Out in the courtyard at last With its whole and life-size statuary I didnt hesitate to bring my mouth to hers Before I lowered it I think it was Athena, Scarred from lack of growing pains, Who shielded us and Pan, Whose melodies concealed Our cry She saw it, She was at the window despite herself The billow above the chop Of the windswept harbor, Not much higher than a wave But more definitive, a small tear of its skin That healed no sooner than the cleft Swallowing the urge to retch She dressed, not in haste, There was no need for haste, She knew where to go, It would take an hour or two, No need to rush As she lingered at her mirror, Checking, the beauty of the day Wasnt lost on her It wasnt long before she reached the spot Where the currents converged, Where the waters always brought them in A little less violently Because of the sheltering rock When it washed up The body was intact and limp, Easier to heft into her lap From their niche she scanned The unwrought emptiness above the sky And marked the height of the sun By the beat of her brine-soaked lips, Not grieving The light from above must have fallen At just the right angle, I dont know why I glanced again at her face But there it was, Translucent though impossible to ignore: A veil The sculptor must have used A very fine instrument To create so delicate a line, So simple, across her forehead I broke down quietly Which is a bit of a lie, Not the quiet part, but breaking Because the limbs made their way to the door, And I could order coffees Even with aplomb And you were as bright as ever, Full of the flowing folds of the Sibyls lap, The smooth veins along her hand, Her torsion immanent, The graces, everything hung together But I was watching closely now, You and the line of your lips It happens to everyone At one time or another, at some time, And others had it worse, I knew, It was easy to tell from the echoes But the timing is what hurt the most Because there was a breeze And the park was too cool for mosquitoes Yet warm enough for comfort, for loafing, For feeling that the sky would hold its place, That sinning out of sight might soon Be out of mind because of such a sky, With its delicate patches and Gauze-like lucencies, and the enduring trees That rang their changes with rustling Through the commons, over the heads of Would-be lovers Fooling around with the lightest of touches At first I thought it was a friend Come to surprise me on the path With a raincoat and umbrella, To smooth my way back home, but no It was a man in uniform, a stranger, Who asked me, very politely, With exquisite courtesy in fact, To go with him We left the trees and the sky and The gathering rains that would have been So delicious if I could have stayed, And I wondered, a bit wild with fear, If anyone took notice as we passed After it was over I made my way back to the park, After quite a while, to be honest Their irony had me in stitches: Of the several things they might have Nailed me with to bring me to my knees They chose to make one up, What a riot, what comedians I stood my ground and, Eventually, they tired, I guess, Or I was stronger than I thought So here I was again, and Except for a slight limp Not too much the worse for wear An old man was pushing his pretzel cart, Done for the day, but he paused Before my bench and gestured for me To help myself otherwise, he urged Hed throw them out It seemed a little fishy but I thanked him As the leaves swirled at our feet and The cries of children doing nothing rose and fell Around us in the dwindling light And just before he disappeared into the trees He turned around, I swear, and winked, Under the sky with its delicate patches, Under the gauze-like lucencies From where we started, Dogs on our heels, It was a beacon of convergence, Remote and certain as geometry Now its slant imposed A levy on our musculature and will Our pack grew quieter, less attached, The several bent on speed Lost or invisible, the rest of us Simply watching our step When you drew me away from the others To that unsheltered cleft facing back, Was it for the view Below so lush, the snakelike valley, So pacific from above, Enough to make us forget why we left Or for your angle On the phantom pleasure, As the cold set in, Of arms He might have stayed his hand The old man started every game this way, And grinned He had the look Though lacked the congregation Of philosophy, and smoked Gauloises And drank aperitifs at the riverbank caf, A fixture there, a crank, I thought One day I sat across the board from him It had taken me a while to realise, To admit to myself That every parting of her lips Became a wound, and every puckering Denial I won hands down, again, again, The old man unperturbed, happy For the drinks, which he sipped and stretched Throughout the night, and for the chance To talk about the fall of Rome When she entered and it was bound to happen Sooner or later, lets face it, even big cities Arent all that big it would have been easy Seeing who was on her arm, With the pith helmet and neatly pressed khakis, To have said enough to level her But Aristotle offered me a smoke And started in on how a glint of booty Caught Aeneas eye and turned the Rome He founded to the Rome we knew I thanked him, straightened out my handkerchief, Adjusted my bow tie, Approached the couple courteously And stood them to a round Though right before I left I couldnt help but pinch Her big game hunter on the cheek