Stars, and sheer stockings
(with reinforced toes),
constellate verses
from words of plain prose.
Shoelessness, shyness---
so unlike the world---
make a sweet refuge
for passions unfurled.
In rapture's splendor,
I kneel down---enthralled
(outside, Ephebe's
gut wrenches, appalled).
My Muse turns pleasure
to ultimate bliss,
giving her sheer-sheathed
feet for my kiss.
(Outside, Ephebe
appoints himself judge;
but his conniptions
are based on a grudge.)
Here is my Muse in
pleased intimation,
bringing a surely
sheer inspiration.
Hers is...
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