Poetry · Virgins Plus Curtains Minus Dots

Virgins Plus Curtains Minus Dots

Latin Borghese

Houses hold virgins

The door’s on the chain

“Plumb streets with hearts”

“Bore curtains with eyes”

Virgins without dots1

Stare beyond probability

See the men pass

Their hats are not ours

We take a walk

They are going somewhere

And they may look everywhere

Men’s eyes look into things

Our eyes look out

A great deal of ourselves

We offer to the mirror

Something less to the confessional

The rest to Time

There is so much Time

Everything is full of it

Such a long time

Virgins may whisper

“Transparent nightdresses made all of lace”

Virgins may squeak

“My dear I should faint!”

Flutter⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠… flutter⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠… flutter⁠ ⁠.⁠ ⁠…

.⁠ ⁠… “And then the man⁠—”

Wasting our giggles

For we have no dots

We have been taught

Love is a god

White with soft wings

Nobody shouts

Virgins for sale

Yet where are our coins

For buying a purchaser

Love is a god

Marriage expensive

A secret well kept

Makes the noise of the world

Nature’s arms spread wide

Making room for us

Room for all of us

Somebody who was never

a virgin

Has bolted the door

Put curtains at our windows

See the men pass

They are going somewhere

Fleshes like weeds

Sprout in the light

So much flesh in the world

Wanders at will

Some behind curtains

Throbs to the night

Bait to the stars

Spread it with gold

And you carry it home

Against your shirt front

To a shaded light

With the door locked

Against virgins who

Might scratch