AND NAKED
somewhat after sonnet XXVII "Desnuda" by Pablo Neruda

And, naked, you are simple as a hand,
and smooth, and round as earth, and clear as glass;
your moonlit lines, your apple-laden land,
as naked as the naked, dancing grass.
And, naked, you are Cuba's darkest night,
whose starlight vines my tracing fingers hold.
And, naked, you are neverending light,
a summer-filled cathedral all of gold.
And, naked, you are but a fingernail,
as subtle as the rosy morning air.
And, now you burrow deep within a veil,
a hundred miles of clothing and of care;
your clarity meets winter in your clothes.
And, naked even now, your bare hand shows.