DO NOT TENDER ME INTO LOVING YOU
You are gentle
and your eyes are soft
with longing after twenty years
rekindled.
It is easy to negate a Cassio,
smug with his prowess
marked by lipsticked handkerchiefs
plucked fresh from
maidenheads
or cuckold's beds.
To such a one, who tries to shatter my resisting thoughts with
seminal spray,
drenching my hair in
desire, I can say
"We were not meant
for one another in this life,"
and I can walk away.
But from you, who sit quietly by, watching and patiently waiting,
I find it very hard to
turn.
For though you yearn,
you do not overwhelm.
You caress my wrist or touch my shoulder carefully,
or brush a wisp of hair
back from my cheek.
Of you I am afraid.
Do not tender me into loving you.
I am still a married woman,
and I do not want to
fall from Machu Picchu.
I do not want to live this life again,
four thousand years
from now. |
