At the Hermitage in St. Petersburg
I spend hours studying the scantily-
draped figures of The Three Graces
view them from every possible angle
Someone asks me why and I reply
They’re women I love them
Months later in a dream I stroll
naked along a secluded garden path
where I come upon the same trio
undraped and pearled with dew
Beauty Charm Joy
they’re women I know them
they invite me to lie with them
We make love and I turn to marble
They’re women I want them
each a touch of you the woman
I want the woman I know
and yes the wife I love
R. T. Sedgwick