In the Walker


Dante ignores the passing Beatrice
and stares beyond her
to where the souls
of mothers float between
the frozen blast of hell
and distant Nirvana's range.

Their sin in life,
guilty of motherhood's failing
duty to their child.
Their robes diaphanous -
some with breasts bared
in the serenity of
sexual alure; not lactal love.

How now! - Dante
is it this that distracts you from
your one sworn love.
Is this scene of life
beyond death? Is it the
drift towards heaven
or those brazen breasts?

Dante - do tell.





By Hodge