When the leafy afternoon
After writing copious
Love songs churned porous
Onto one's soul brought
A tired indolent shape,
She,
Her name renamed-
Saying...
'From foam I am born...
From foam I am torn...
Yet to foam I would return...'
She stated firm...
As if a fitting affirmation
Of Her Goddess within...
Aphrodite?
Alone?
She?
Nay!
For in Her hair
Once stayed Diana...
With Her silvery beams...
In the evenings
She had Ceridwen,
And when She turned to run
Her fingers on the lyre...
She became a Freya...
And like night turns to a dawn...
She turned to every morn-
An Eos...
Who would help Helios
To ride His chariot across the sky...
And...
Her tears
Which For Orion She dropped
Would usually leave marks
On leaves of afternoon such...
A tired,
Foaming,
Germinating,
Closing-
Kind
Of an afternoon...
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