issue 31 > poetry > kuspit
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Le Printemps, 1908 by Felix Vallotton
by Donald Kuspit
all is not lost,
however lost you
look,
your uncombed hair
a budding
sun,
your veil lyrically
transparent dew,
your body seductively
visible,
as it was
when its perfection
tempted Adam to sin.
or are you Leda
awaiting the swan
from
animal heaven,
obscene with enigma?
you've lost your virginity
too many times to be spring,
however often
it is renewed
by naive nature.