A Titian Not A Toy

A titian not a toy
Titania in Sylvania
Softly handsome like a boy
From the murks of subterranea
Rising supple cool and coy
Elated and sedated
High eyes like Mina Loy
Traction driven into trances
Stolen looks, recovered glances
Dripping like Croesus
On a cruise to Ephesus
Wriggling like weed
Wreather in plaits of golden joy
She’s life injected into drawing
An ice maiden always thawing
Iridescence, evanescence
A slow dissolve
   into intangible




Julian Isaacs

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