Inamorata

Oct 20 2015

To be taken with

enamoured of

besotted by,

infatuated, gob-smacked, starry-eyed.

Inamorata, soul-mate, heart's desire,

hoped-for, and fantasized.

Dream-girl, lover-boy,

surrendering

and falling for.

Flirt, seduce, coquette,

the perfect words she said.

When capture, smite, bewitch

turn amorous

lascivious.

Cuddle, neck, caress

undone, unzipped, undressed.

In heat, in lust, in bed,

in delicto

                     ... spent.

Tangled sheets, and cooling sweat

unguarded skin

untroubled flesh.

Sated, emptied, fed

kissed and spooned and slept.

Belly-up

and snuggle-in against;

contented chest

rising and falling with hers,

legs enmeshed like nesting dolls.

Your hot breath

in the curve of her neck,

warm breasts

enfolded in your arms.

I encountered the word inamorata: a word I've rarely heard and have probably never used. But I immediately loved the sound of it, and felt compelled to build a poem around it.

I rarely write about love, and even less about lust, so this is a nice departure from my usual puritanical habit. What I like the most is how much time the poem spends on the anticipation, the state of mind; and then, after the fact, on the sense of utter relaxation and the pleasure of intimacy. What a departure, when you can see explicit sex everywhere, to distil the actual sex act -- the clinical mechanics of copulation -- down to a simple 2 word line: in delicto. ("In flagrante delicto" was just too much to shoe-horn in. Which is too bad, because I think "flagrante" is the best part!) So it's all about the before and after; the actual sex is left unsaid.

I also like the way the language, in the final stanza, seems to decompress. Everything up to this point is closer to list than poetry: related words, accumulating nuance and weight. (Which doesn't just look as if I opened up the thesaurus and transcribed: that's exactly what I did. Judiciously edited and elaborated, of course!) It's only at the end, after all the anticipation and energy and pent-up desire is spent, that the poem is able to speak in sentences: taking a breath, opening up, slowing down.

I like the very beginning, with its promiscuous use of different prepositions. Especially because I had to work against my usual reluctance to end a line on a preposition. I know this is an archaic "rule" of grammar, something borrowed from Latin and pedantically applied to English. But I follow it because I think the last word of a line is privileged, and therefore should be occupied by powerful words. The last word acquires a special resonance: it seems to hover in the air for an extra beat. Prepositions are too mushy and meaningless, have no strength or finality, and so waste that privileged spot.

Prepositions come up again in the middle stanza. I rather like the rhythm set up by in heat, in lust, in bed; and then how the sense of in is given a little tweak with in delicto.

I feel I should comment on sated, emptied, fed. The line seems contradictory; but it’s true:  how you feel the emptiness of release, but also the satiety of satisfaction. (Not to mention that fed gives me a convenient -- and necessary -- rhyme!)

I like belly-up. Belly is a great word (verb or noun). It has a kind of innocent intimacy and lack of self-consciousness. It conveys a warmth and physicality and familiarity that I think works very well here.