The Queen Of Night Poem by Nazmul Haque

She was soft to the touch as a cloud,
To see her hair was to imagine
that a whole winter did not contain
darkness enough to form its shadow.

She had pagan eyes,
full of nocturnal mysteries....
Her mouth seemed formed
less to speak than to quiver,
less to quiver than to kiss,
less to kiss than to curl.

The closing-line of her lips formed
with almost geometric precision,
Her presence brought memories of
the tropical midnights;
her moods recalled Lotus-eaters...
her motions, the ebb and flow of the sea;
her voice, the violin of Orphius...