Stained rocks rise from a pool by the
Thames, atop, two rearing horses,
the chariot between their spread wings
driven by a female, whipless, hair
held high between her fingers,
a maid stretches an arm in worship,
a kneeling nymph helps up a friend,
their arms clasped, another sits in a shell
where, between finger and thumb, a nut
for a horse or pearl for the charioteer,
arms wide, a girl bends backwards
as if suddenly aware of the animals
above, a lass below leans over the
water, surprised by her reflection, and
as the tide rises, weeds wash up to an
ankle, behind a knee, the palm of a hand,
on the other bank those that look across
may see only a tip of stone above trees,
a curl, a tress, not thinking there could
be figures here larger than life,
elegant, playful, drowning.