She sits on the bed, breasts slack, watching a curl of dust float through a ray of sun, drift down to a corner. So brief this meeting with a strange child -- Do I want to be remembered? Only as a mare might know the body of her rider, the pressure of legs unlike any other. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A THOUGHT SUGGESTED BY A VIEW, OF SADDLEBACK IN CUMBERLAND by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE SUPPLICATION by JOSEPH SEAMON COTTER JR. TO THE LADYBIRD by MOTHER GOOSE ODE ON SOLITUDE (FINAL PRINTED VERSION) by ALEXANDER POPE THE END OF IT by FRANCIS THOMPSON INSCRIPTIONS: 2. FOR A STATUE OF CHAUCER AT WOODSTOCK by MARK AKENSIDE |