Denise Levertov


How I woke to the color-tone
as of peach-juice
dulcet bells were
            And how my pleasure
was in the strength of my back,
in my noble shoulders, the cool
smooth flesh cylinders of my arms.
How I seemed a woman tall and
full-rounded, ready
to step into daylight sound as a bell

but continued to awake
further, and found myself
myself, smaller,
not thin but thinner, nervous,
who hurries without animal calm.
And how the sweet
blur of the bells

lapsed, and ceased,
and it was not morning.