SHE DOES NOT SING FOR YOU

Screen Shot 2019-02-07 at 2.22.29 PM.png
  • To Donne who yearned to heare,
  • Yeats who pursued,
  • And Eliot who was right...
  • SHE DOES NOT SING FOR YOU
  • Glittering, curving, unknown
  • to sky, land and flame,
  • she pauses in her confident progress
  • through her realm and circles you curiously.
  • The water between you
  • heats as she turns, her hair haloes
  • around her lovely calm face,
  • dancing against your cheek as
  • she looks into your eyes
  • and comes to some conclusion.
  • A slight turning of a sleek shoulder,
  • an indolent muscling of her tail and
  • she is gone.
  • Your yearning is unimpressive,
  • your predicament immaterial.
  • She is seeking more than you offer.
  • And you saw no way to enter her
  • mysterious body, have no way to remain
  • in her world, although the undersea
  • beguiles, and you long to plunge into
  • her warm center.
  • Loins, lungs, heart shout counter commands-
  • Leave. Follow her.
  • Go back where you came from, trudge heavily
  • on the mundane ground, fill your chest
  • with fumes and dust, still yearning,
  • still questioning, but knowing now
  • she soars and spirals here, jubilant,
  • garlanded in flowers of the tealgreen sea,
  • holding no memory of you.
  • Or, you may die, here, in the backwash
  • of her indifference.
  • She did not give you her secrets,
  • did not breathe for you, open to you,
  • smooth away your pain,
  • envelop you in beauty,
  • call you by your name.
  • Vain, cold, soulless killer of good men –

  • the bitch will pay.