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The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part One

Lone gold Venus nears the sickle moon in the late autumn sky
She lies naked dreaming with one leg tucked under her thigh
The pallor of her silvery skin simmering with tide
A lone white swan trundles on one webbed foot heaving a sigh

Her tiara of amber and halogen loose by her side
The gold-braided brocade and studded raiments on one side
Gushing tresses hang loose by twinkling broaches on her back
Heady scents from pubic island and dark armpits fester inside

Wintry winds sweep through weeping willows tickling her fancy
Sway clumps of yarrow stalks huddling fearless coots in colony
She turns and heaves a sigh thinking of Old Khayyam’s ardour
Stars in his eyes and ruby red wine coursing through glory

Over the mobile hips and seductive slopes of her hills
Come calling Canada geese and wild duck in squawking trills
All messengers from Tundra’s ever clasping hoary past
Will she remember you O! Omar! when freezing water kills

The hoar frost wheezes under-foot along her silken robes
And the lone otter dares not venture out in his last throes
Even the sea gulls swoop no more for deep hugging blind fish 
While she slumbers through blared Canada geese trumpeting oboes! 

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013

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