How Anchises felt

I'm not sure how successful a poem this is. Partly, I suppose, it is just an exercise in dactylic hexameter. Partly, too, I am continuing to try to work out this connection between religion and sex that is so topical when I am with D. Most recently I had an idea what I wanted to say, but couldn't get it to fit into the narrow space of a sonnet. But I realized that the example I wanted to use was Greek (no surprise there), so I looked up the Homeric Hymn to Aphrodite for ideas. (You can find this on the web here or here.) And from reading that, I got the idea that I could try to draw a somewhat longer picture with a different kind of verse. The idea of using dactylic hexameter was inspired by Homer himself, of course; and because this foot is notoriously difficult to construct in English, I exempted myself from any obligation to use any other poetic devices (such as rhyme or alliteration).

The result looks almost like prose, at least to me. If you don't hear the meter in it, you won't hear anything else poetic. Still, it is after all just an exercise. Maybe I'll send it to D in a couple of days ....

This must be just how Anchises felt, waking from sleep in the darkness, his

Arm crooked around the young maiden who all through the night lay beside him. The

Evening before she had come to him, calling herself a young virgin, all

Untried in love and abducted by Hermes to Troy as a wife for him.

Her eyelids cast downward, she smiled. To his comfortable bed he directed her;

Took off her earrings, her bracelets next, loosened her girdle, let fall her gown.

There in her exquisite beauty she stood for a moment and looked at him.

Soft were her breasts, and her cheeks were flushed; dewy her thighs, and perfumed her throat.

Stricken with love he embraced the girl, kissing her lips and her shoulders.

Together they fell on the bed, and their love lit the night like a bonfire. But

In the still hours of darkness, Anchises awoke from his slumber. The

Maiden slept softly, but all around cast she a heavenly halo.

Then did Anchises know perfectly, this was no maiden, no virgin wife,

But an immortal -- a goddess! Great Aphrodite had shared his bed.

__________

When I awake in my hotel, the light in the room is from streetlamps.

Instead of the song of the nymphs I hear humming from the air conditioning.

Nestled against my chest sleeping, my sweetheart breathes softly and rests at peace.

My arm crooks around her and holds her close. My stubbly beard rubs against her hair.

Yet in my heart I am certain this woman must be more than mortal. Her

Lips get their sweetness from nectar. Ambrosia keeps her skin supple. How

Else to account for her passion? How else to explain how she loves me? What

Mortal could love so intensely? What mortal knows ardor so pure?