All Of My Lovers

All of my lovers, nameless and named,
Pure inspiration you have inflamed.
Not under covers did all of you go;
Many—nay, most of you—not in the know.

Some passed me by, not even to see
I saw your confident dressing-to-be.
Some were mere voices I stopped to hear—
Speech become song that sang in my ear.

Some were for flirting, some had a gift
For giving each step a stepping-up lift;
Some, you were young, with passionate face,
And older, some, and firm in your grace.

Some of you mothers, glad children in tow—
Not under my covers did all of you go.
Some had your true love coiled in your arms,
Eyes for him only, aim of your charms.

Some undulating, some with bare feet;
Some with your hair cut perfectly neat;
Some of you danced, and three of you ran;
Some of you hungrily hunted a man.

Two, just two only, hold I the best;
One is still married, the other gone west.
All of my lovers, nameless and named,
Pure inspiration you have inflamed.

Where is my new love? I must go look.
Maybe she’s waiting, reading a book.
Or laughing light laugh for life that is gay,
Ere getting to business, planning her day.

Perhaps she is walking a dog in the street,
Or standing for artist, clotheless, complete.
Maybe she’s lecturing—truth of her mind—
To men who’re re-learning not to be blind.

Then again, for piano she might have soul,
With all her soul’s beauty full in control
And, pausing as one note sighs out of sight,
Looks at her vision—yes, it’s all right.

All of my lovers, nameless and named,
Pure inspiration you have inflamed.

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