Greek Youthful Skin
Bland of figure, hair and face, she keys in
Stuff, into her Apple Mac. Thick-lipped, she
Wears Schubert’s glasses. How would one begin
To list her hidden charms? Normality?
No, that’s no glitzier than the slightly
Gray white plastic of the laptop. The brains
Behind the eyes? Naw. Too tightly
They focus on small print as if the chains
Of academe have overcome her mind.
She pauses long enough to pick a bump
Beneath her chin. You wish you had been blind
Like Milton. Does this dame have any trump?
No-one could be love-sick or be ill for
Her. But the youthful skin is to kill for.