Miss Universe

I learned, I learned – when one might be inclined
To think, too late, you cannot recover your losses –
I learned something of the nature of God’s mind,
Not the abstract Creator but He who caresses
The daily and nightly earth; He who refuses
To take failure for an answer till again and again is worn.
Love is waiting for you, waiting for the violence that she chooses
From the tepidity of the common round beyond exhaustion or scorn.
What was once is still and there is no need for remorse;
There are no recriminations in Heaven. O the sensual throb
Of the explosive body, the tumultuous thighs!
Adown a summer lane comes Miss Universe,
She whom no lecher’s art can rob
Though she is not the virgin who was wise.