that girl with the golden necklace 
& ivory breasts 
whose body ignited the river: 
she who rose like the moon 
from her bathing & 
brushed back the ebony hair 
that fell to her waist 
& walked off 
into the twilight dark— 
O my soul, 
what chord did she pluck 
that I am still trembling?

                    after Chandidās

— From Kowit’s collection, The Gods of Rapture: Poems in the Erotic Mood (San Diego City Works Press, 2006); reprinted by permissions of author and publisher

Bio: Steve Kowit