Bring it on
They say it
won’t last.
Him with
his webbed feet and shaggy mane.
The heat
alone of him will melt me, they say,
erase my
quarter, half and full phases,
my gibbous,
crescent, waxing and waning moods.
Hang the
consequences, I say, holding the apple between us,
me, like
Eve, tempting him-
A kiss
about to weld us into a near perfect O.
Expulsion
from
Bring it
on, I say, bring it on.
Based on
The Marriage between the Sun and Moon By Fidelma Massey
No comments:
Post a Comment