Thursday, November 7, 2013


Oh, love me, do
Didn't I ask it of you?
Not as you wish with
Flowery gestures
Utterances of fidelity
Mad scrubbing as if soil removal
removes maladies too
Curses hurled at God
About the unfairness
Of. It. All.
And casseroles

Love me with your
Fingers curled round mine
Sitting in companionable silence
Or swimming through some tune
Arresting the present
Not contesting my freedom
To fight...
Or not
Because I've already won
This game

No comments:

Post a Comment