The Blonde Queen
We love the way that light approaches love
On skin, on shoulder, chest, or nostril, on
A lower lip protruding just above
The cleft of chin. When darkness is withdrawn,
So glowing softness, like a god concealed,
Emerges, as the sword of Avalon
From mists arose; a radiance revealed
By hidden light comes up like beauty’s dawn,
Like gleams on foreheads through a legend’s air.
Queen Guenevere knows nothing needs be said
About black sunshine on du Lac’s curved hair.
Such loveliness can never be misread.
Perfection of a smitten royal curl
Gleams poignantly like candle flame on pearl.