Femme Fatale

See how she flaunts her beauty to the gaze
of doting lovers basking at her side.
Spreads out her lace-trimmed skirt voluptuously:
its shimmering shade reflects the blue
of arching sky. And innocence she feigns,
masking the inconstant temper of her mood
which, hidden, lies beneath that tranquil breast.

A squall arises suddenly, and now
her mood reflects the sky which, overcast
with thunderous clouds, mirrors her face grown
dark and dire. Her lovers flee the menace
of her rage:

                And late return to find she
has withdrawn to a slim and distant line:
as when a nun in contemplative prayer
forsakes the commerce of the market place.
Disconsolate, her lovers pace the shore.

And yet again, in solitary mood, she steals
into a hidden cove whose shapely curve
she fills, lapping and flirting with some passing youth.

And finally, the bedrock of her moods
shifts, shakes with quaking force, thrusts upward.
All her daemons surge in one swift fickle move,
with unrestrained caprice. Death dealing spite
engulfs her lovers as, innocent, they idle at her side.