Amy Blessed 47bc Poem by Terry Collett

The lady Aquila has left
and I clean up
and clear away
the things used.

Annona has gone
to lie down;
the constant chat
has worn her down
and out. Aquila eyed

me with disdain,
talked to me as if I
were her slave rather
than Annona's,

beckoning me for
this and that, sitting
there like some princess
from some foreign shore.

Annona raised her eyes
at me behind Aquila's back,
and blew me a kiss
when she could, and

smiled as if to say bear
with her she has no power
over you, she loves
only her own soul,

if soul she has.
Come to me
this night, Amy,
Annona said, enter

my bed and love me
as you do and I do you,
and Aquila had just left,
her shadow only just

gone from the walls' hold.
If only Annona's husband,
Marcus, saw how we
love and kiss and hold

and lie, both of us would
be slain in the bed and die.
Last night, how her lips
kissed upon my inner thighs,

reaching up to my
sexual nest, there
she kissed and in
Latin words, blessed.