sinister lady

 
 
she gets around. hustles from town to mythical town,  
from man to deluded man. she prefers the mature
type, white-haired, with the gallant gestures & the
indelible cursives of a poet. but, like the lost ship,  
any port in a storm. so come, you silk-voiced men;  
come, & come again.  
 
she poses by request, in a sexy negligee or in nothing  
at all, then transfers her explicit charisma to the local  
slot or foreign shore of her paramour du jour. so the  
secret stash of his illicit nude art will always be full.
 
like the old song, she admits ‘I will never love you, but
I’ll stay with you (& play with you) for one year.’ when  
my carousel ride expires, I must harden my heart,  
renounce my tears, & remember that love is a game, &
every game has a loser.
 
in my gossamer fantasy, I pretend I’m her only lover. her  
kisses are bound to me, as my poems are her addiction.
but she’s as ethereal as the air, & it’s easy to fly on
unfaithful wings.
 
when I can no longer endure the whistling whiplash of her
beauty, I brood in the tormented fields of the Nephilim.
McCoy & his crew offer me brief deliverance.
 
 
when you go, lover, go quickly; kiss me once
and let it be done…
 
 
(Art: Arthur Meehan)