Ode in a Mirror

A girl unleaving in a glass
her flimsy garments light and frail
is like some paradisal tree
whose fruited branches, lithe and pale,

are stirred to dance in balmy swirls
that on its ornamental leaves
rain havoc, though in ignorance;
or, like a garden flower that grieves

not to unloose, after a time,
her delicate petals to the earth,
affirmed that she is beautiful.
To liberate the soul, to birth

a slow unsheathing of the flesh,
is reason coupled with her grace.
O sweet enchantress, who must spin
a dance from an uncertain pace

like her, the fabled damsel fair
constrained to spin gold out of straw,
weave into permanence your art
and tune by chance, in orchestra,

the instruments that music make
(albeit not of wood nor brass):
of beauty's charm and passion's ache,
O girl unleaving in a glass.



mid 1980's (imitating Stevens and the Fugitives)