‘Midst a sultry, summer slog through Castile,
As Notus’ scorching heat sapped flagging will,
Encroached I ‘pon her of Damask appeal,
Whose enticing semblance struck me with chills.
Thus seduced, I reached for her engorged hips,
Her forbid fruit, by prickly pikes, guarded,
Left bloody marks on pilf’ring fingertips,
My thievish rudeness amply rewarded!
Still entranced—by her musk, her fragrant oils—
A second attempt won me twin treasure,
One for delight; th’other, for potted spoil,
To plant, to bloom, in my garden pleasure.
Ah! The homely smell, made richly pleasant,
By the distilled spirit of Damask scent.
G. E. Hernandez