two loves the flighty flower has in hand,
to warm her leaves and tease her with their light:
the morning husband is the soul whose wend
across her sky is one of her two delights;
her lover in the night is cooler still:
softly watching from the darker world
he haunts, she basks within his glow, until
the petals of her buds slowly uncurl…
but morning comes, and then her naked heart
is spread for all to see – like day and night
divided into half – and in each part
a selfish joy that swallows up the gaze
each love throws her – and splits to left and right
the kisses that they plant upon her face.