WITH COLD RAINS 47BC

A ROMAN AND HER SLAVE GIRL IN ROME IN 47BC

Since her husband has left
on one of Caesar's campaigns,
Annona keeps me close,
has me in her bed.

Amy,
she says,
come closer,
feel here and here,
and I do,
and we lie here at night
watching the moon
pass the window,
the stars wink at us.

I smell her
perfumes and ointments
and want to drown
in her beauty.

Domitia spoke to me
as a mere slave girl,
of no importance,
puella, puella,
she called,
beckoned'
me with her finger,
stared at me as dung.

Annona holds me warm,
kisses me everywhere,
brings me to high places
in body and nerves.

When her husband returns,
I must return
to my own room,
and sleep alone,
think of her with him,
him having her body,
his pores over her,
shafting her.

She takes my hand
and mouths my fingers
one by one;
her other hand
touching my soft place.

Suavitatem
et p***y mea,
she whispers to me,
her soft breath,
our bodies wrapped
about each other.

I would die for her,
protect her
from her enemies,
but I am like
soft clay in her hands.

Annona kisses my lips,
holds my body
close to her soul,
our eyes meeting
and gazing.

Far away her husband fights
in wars and campaigns;
I laze in the sun
of her love;
he lives in the dark place
with cold rains.