Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Life Talks to Death for a While

I'd do whatever I must do
to be with you:
eschew conventions and stay true
to the milieu

you tell me to: that is, unless,
of course, the mess
becomes ungovernable: bless
your sweet caress? –

oh, darling – yes! – but if the light
goes out, and spite
prevails, my sweet one, you'll lose sight
of me. No might

is great enough to make me fit
if to submit
abysmally’s all you'd permit –
that’s when I'd quit.

Fickle baby!
saying maybe
while you swear

you won't. As if
you had a choice.
You see the cliff –
and hear the voice –

it echoes: goes
where you would like
to go: that rose
you smell? – that spike

of scent that draws?
Just try to stay
away. The laws
decree: you'll sway

to me.

If only you'd talk sensibly!

I do, my little honey bee.

Oh God.

No God.

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