“…She cannot fade, though thou hast not thy bliss,
Forever wilt thou love, and she be fair!”
John Keats, “Ode on a Grecian Urn”
Don’t let him take those pictures
when the water melts
luminous pearl around you
and the last sunbathers
ascend the pale ribbon trail
leaving behind
the day’s opalescent heart
when only your swimsuits
still sleep on sand
the color of new honey
Honey
no matter what he says
for ever on some dusty shelf
you’ll lie, breasts gleaming
in light’s last sheen
long after
beauty’s untrue
Marianne Taylor is a bookseller at Powell’s on Burnside where she manages the sales floor in the Blue, Gold, and Green rooms. In a previous life she taught literature and creative writing at a Midwestern college, and her poetry has been published widely in national journals and anthologies. She once served as Poet Laureate of her former small town, but for the past three years she’s been trying to find her way around Portland.