WOMAN

In the middle of the street,
Being swirled around by the wind,
Were the pages of a pornographic magazine
Intermingled with several shredded newspapers,
All vying for my attention.

Advertisements for assorted vices,
And all kinds of inducements, fluttered by;
Personal columns dispersed between neutrally
Coloured women, and stories beginning to curdle
Even as their pages separated.

Readers wives, and even seedier
Lives, were displayed in uncompromising
Lights, and here and there were couples involved
In connections too abstract for even the most athletic
Or aesthetic amongst us.

Whilst further up the road than you
May have wished to go, propped against a
Wall, a lonely centre fold stood out, with more
Staple holes in her than anybody’s love of piercing
Could ever have reflected.

And though you may suppose that this
Smut belongs in the gutter, you can’t help
But love her, in her beautiful perfection, with
All her life before her and beyond; a vision of Eve
In her prime before Adam came along.