Saturday, November 21, 2015

A Night Visitor

Oh, yes! I hear you tapping at my window
Beckoning me closer 
A cool breath of impulsivity on my cheek
Tonight’s a nice night for a flight you purr.
Open the window. Dance in the stardust, my angel.
But we both know
You have all the subtlety of a Sylvia Plath novel. 
And this will end like all your other attempts—
Silenced by the dagger of my pen against your throat
Branding my defiance into the pages of your jugular: 
Dum vita est spes est!
So, come another night if you must
Entice me with belladonna’s perfume.
Enchant me with a melancholic dissonance. 
But all these gimmicks are simply 
Sequins in a tawdry floor show.
They do not stupefy or overpower me. 
You are missing the true magic:
A heart that pounds
Lungs that rise and fall in an orchestrated rhythm 
Ears that delight in children’s laughter
A nose that awaits freshly baked cookies.
You are outdone. You are outnumbered,
In this body, life abounds.
And where there is life, 
There is so much hope!