Belvedere

1.

Not then the view, precisely,
nor the platform, yet nicely
made, she observed, an eye.
It’s here, his hand sweeping.

The decking and balustrade
drew her minute attention.
He paused to look beyond.
Even when fucking he liked

a view the window framed,
its curtain like a July flag or
a jenny filling out, towers
close enough to be a view

if someone looked up, but
viewed had its history, his
cock hard beneath a coat,
the crowd below waiting:

these are love’s exacting
prices, set that high yet
we paid them, hemmed
in as we were, hemmed

in, but now a platform
or plateau with views
in all directions, hawks
gliding. The sun exacts.

2.

Less panorama than
a forest, its clearings
brief then back at it,

the burden is heavier
that was naked once,
finally naked, willing

an end to all starts
striking us then as
false. Then desire’s

wet turns to flood,
recriminations, lives
sodden, bedraggled,

steeped in reality, to
give it a name, unlike
a belvedere, purpose-

built for an afternoon
of our own devising,
our mutual artifice.