I’m summoned to the jasmine terrace
where he waits
reclining on the large, low bed
draped in blues and reds and oranges.
 
He’s with Sondasi’s servant girl
– her gaze is lowered, his
rests on her breasts, where a blush blooms
above her open blouse.
 
Her waist is a handspan, her hips
high and wide. 
During the love act, he moves my legs
to one side
 
so she will see as he enters me.
He doesn’t look at me,
but, over my shoulder, watches her
small, heart-shaped face.