Lesser Now

It’s remarkable how ones essence can

instantly cling to wet surfaces -

refusing to sail with the tide

washing out from shower shores;

forcing me to solution and cloth,

but it mustn't be left and discovered.

It must never be known that I

would sooner find respite in shadow

than part her silken curtains

with evanescent hopes of radiant glory.

It’s not her form; she is - now - as

ravishing as the day I jeweled her finger,

but I can not endure the inevitable

chill of her frustration -

and those eyes like witches orbs

casting frigid accusations that

culminate in very core -

sharp reminders that I was once

a real man.