5
This is the seventh time I have
Sworn never to write poetry.
That is my own count. My love
Thinks I have sworn
Over a million times.
That shows how stuck I am.
Pinioned to habits. A triple
Mess she would say –
Write poetry, read poetry,
And watch poets
On end on YouTube
Into wee hours when I should be
Making love. I watch Sexton.
She flaunts her velvet body.
I think I love her lips
And the soft texture of her voice.
Do not ask me if I would love
To crop her fair boobs.
I must stop before the night
Runs into overdrive or explodes.
6
When a poet loves a woman,
He speaks of his love
For her in this life
And in the hereafter
And he pitches her
Against the envy of the Muses.
The Muses run a closed
Cult of the Jealous.
Wherever they enter,
They shut the door
Against other women.
They hardly know how
To share a man. You have
Been their victim
Since I ran off
With the Svelte Ones.
These days you only see me
In flight to Mimesis.
These days I measure
The world with a long tape.
