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Poetry Friday


My downfall: those pink articulate lips
Divinely flavoured portals to a mouth
Where soul dissolves … eyes darting
Beneath black brows, snares for the heart,
And the milk-white breasts, well shaped,
The twin rosebuds, fair beyond other flowers.

To itemize thus — is this to cast dogs a bone?
The poet’s pen — secret as reeds of Midas?

  — Dioskorides (c. 3rd Century BCE), translated by Peter Whigham