deepundergroundpoetry.com
scarlet star in a solemn sky
I watch her through a glass wall.
she could cover her side of it with a thick, dark curtain, but she has no
desire to shutdown my deviant eyes. there are no secrets locked in
cabinets, no intimate love stories confined in a red-ribboned journal. &
when she is nude, it’s because she prefers it.
she discovered early her affinity for sex; it was a carousel, & there were
many ponies to ride. she’s wise enough to know what she is, & noble
enough to accept it. if she was bad, it was someone else’s perception
of wickedness.
she knows the kind of man she wants, & counts the fallacies & charades
of the men she does not want. her wildness can be tamed by the passion
in his heart; it sings to her like a nightingale. she yearns for a strict
branding where it should be placed, & her hair, captive in a clenched fist.
if the sex is violent, she fashions the hurt into velvet shackles of ecstasy.
as a daughter of Eve, she’s the temptress that will lead a man to her bed
or a verdant spot in the garden. & if she’s hungry, she’ll get him to pick
an apple from the forbidden tree.
many times, I’ve imagined a door in that wall. I go in & of course the sex
is incredible, but after, I need a drink & a smoke, & what do I do with
her now?
so I tell her how beautiful our loving was, & how we must keep that
beauty secure in our hearts, & we vow never to write about it.
there are paintings & there is music –
but there is no poem…
(Art: Gunter Rossler)
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