In what temerity do you engage,
To so unfeelingly, my hands, degrade?
Do you see in their manner a lack of wisdom and age,
See but ten tyros all ablush, all abashed, all afraid?
Could they not possess knowledge most irrefutably sage
To deem skin more supple and softer than any earth- or God--made?

And what audacity rides upon your tongue,
To so bitingly belittle my lips?
Do you think them so ignorant, so green and so young,
Think they have known only brief, only virginal sips?
Could they not have staggered in swill, mighty rivers, among
And knowing now the drench of ocean, recall mere stumbles and slips?

Oh, what ungrounded gall uproots truth at my ear,
As, aspersion, you pound at my heart!
Do you give my guileless organ to but behavioral fear,
Give it the desperate beats of an erstwhile, deadly depart?
Could it not have been of spatial bent, desirous not of someone near,
Which yet yielded to love’s intrusion, to the necessity of your art?


Let me caress your soft skin with my two enslaved hands;
Let me kiss your moist lips which deny.
Let me soar through the clouds: my heart despotically demands
Even as your calumnies so coldly do fly!
And were I, indeed, your tossed waif, coy and callow on city sands,
Would I not yet know the superlatives of love, and heatedly to you hie?

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...