Michigan Delight


Isabel and Radha have composed the modern, wintry counterpart to Ovid’s Afternoon Delight, telling the story of another sultry afternoon.


Michigan Delight

It was cold, and the noon hour had gone by.

I was huddled, limbs swaddled in the fleecy nest of the bed.

One half of the grate was open, the other closed:

the light was just as it is after a ghost story,

it flickered like the fallen embers of Prometheus,

or when shades are half drawn against summer’s light.

Such light that glows on the warm skin of modest girls

who take shy refuge in feathers and baggy wool.

Behold Adelaide comes, wrapped in slipping layers,

dusted hair tangled in her twisted scarves,

like the brilliant Halle Berry going to her bed,

one might say, or Lindsey Vonn, loved by many men.

I pulled away her layers – a pile mounting on the floor,

yet she shivered, struggled to keep the scarf around her,

in the same way as one unwilling to win;

yielding, she was effortlessly conquered.

When we stood before the hearth, blankets forgotten,

on her whole body there was never a blemish.

What shoulders! What collarbones, such as the English Patient adores!

Breasts like fawns stepping through new-fallen snow!

Such a svelte waist meeting the plane of her belly!

What hips! And, damn! Those legs! Those ankles!

Why picture each shapely form? I saw nothing lacking praise

and pressed her warmed body against mine.

Who doesn’t know how this one goes? Weary, we nestled.

May such blizzards often come for me!


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s