• Persephone

    by  • September 3, 2011 • Uncategorized

    it feels like you are Persephone,

    always refusing my offers of food and wine,

    suspicious

    distant

    playing by some other rules.

    Myself, I am a

    plain-spoken man.

    I mean what I say

    and offer only

    what I mean to freely give.

     

    You are a mystery to me.

    I see your longing

    and yet

    you say no.

     

    I want to say,

    What harm will come?

     

    I want to say,

    if not twelve then six,

    if not six

    at least a tropical three,

    a little respite

    from your Puritan jaw.

     

    But who am I

    to know better?

    Who am I

    to name the glint and shimmer

    in your eye?

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