Odalisque. (Three poems).(Poem)

 
Odalisque 
 
   And so she took off her shirt, all 
   in one motion, pausing 
   to make her hesitation an act of modesty, 
   yet immodest. We had not had 
 
   an affair, and could never have an affair. 
   It was not that she was not beautiful, 
   though she wasn't, and not that I 
   didn't know the desire of other men 
 
   to sleep with her. The Atlantic 
   lay in the harbor, fusing its blue disorders 
   to the light slatted through blinds, 
   the light that barred her breasts. 
 
   They were, need I say, nearly perfect. 
   I saw how proud she was of them, 
   proud too of their effect on men, 
 ...