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Portrait Of A Lady

Your thighs are appletrees
Whose blossoms touch the sky.
Which sky? The sky
Where Watteau hung a lady’s
Slipper. Your knees
Are a southern breeze-or
A gust of snow. Agh! what
Sort of man was Fragonard?
-As if that answered
Anything.-Ah, yes. Below
The knees, since the tune
Drops that way, it is
One of those white summer days,
The tall grass of your ankles
Flickers upon the shore-
Which shore?-
The sand clings to my lips-
Which shore?
Agh, petals maybe. How
Should I know?
Which shore? Which shore?
-the petals from some hidden
Appletree-Which shore?
I said petals from an appletree.


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Poem Portrait Of A Lady - William Carlos Williams
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