B: Xxxvii: Antidote - Poem by Douglas Scotney
'Which of my charms is best, my dear? '
My dear asked me this morn.
'There cannot be just one, my dear,
I must say, tout entiere.
On top like now,
Or like down below last night,
You're a myster of mixturies:
The sight of what you hear,
The taste of what you smell,
She laughed at the combinations.
At her laugh I laughed as well.
Poet's Notes about The Poem
'tout entiere' means 'the whole package'.
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