Saturday, October 14, 2006

an ordinary man, #4

don't sit beside her, or listen to her whispered questions,
for she's used them all before, and you don't know any
of their answers, or know where she will bind you, for

you've never learned the language of her knots, and her
gods are strange to you, holding back an anger that never
tires, never lays its head in quiet, and don't fall into a sleep

where she can find you, she knows the nature and the way
of all your broken breathing, can steal into your night with
tortures you can never bear, for you will be among her

treasures, among her many takings. please don't sit beside
her, for i cannot be your hero, if she draws her salty lips
across the blush that gives you favor, leaves her marks,

leaves you in a place that we've forgotten, that opens to
the magicks that are to her alone. don't sit beside her,
little singing fool, little jingle boy, with all your glances

unless you would become an ordinary man

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