I like how my lips
fit that hollow
by your collar bone

I could sing an anthem there
or whisper sweet
sweet nothings.

For me, the naked and the ****
(By lexicographers construed
As synonyms that should express
The same deficiency of dress
Or shelter) stand as wide apart
As love from lies, or truth from art.

Lovers without reproach will gaze
On bodies naked and ablaze;
The Hippocratic eye will see
In nakedness, anatomy;
And naked shines the Goddess when
She mounts her lion among men.

The **** are bold, the **** are sly
To hold each treasonable eye.
While draping by a showman's trick
Their dishabille in rhetoric,
They grin a mock-religious grin
Of scorn at those of naked skin.

The naked, therefore, who compete
Against the **** may know defeat;
Yet when they both together tread
The briary pastures of the dead,
By Gorgons with long whips pursued,
How naked go the sometime ****!

The flame had died from bright to dim,
A future changed from bright to grim.
Years spent through think and, thin.
Strong, yet weak, with broken feet,
A monstrous 5 foot is she.
Magically in majesty, she entrances me.
Of all the works of art, I've ever seen,
No one could ever, enlighten me like she.
Like motionless water, needing a splash,
Or a house of cards waiting for, collapse.

**-N.C.