Oh for a candle I could light
to draw you close...
Oh for a puppet
made like you,
with your own lovely body
sewn again of cloth,
with your own pale
unseeing eyes,
with your manhood sweetly curving,
remade in wax or clay....

Oh for an herb
to place upon my tongue
to bring your tongue
to mine..

Oh for a potion
I could drink
or slip to you
at some stale
dinner party....

Oh for your nail parings...
Oh for your hairs...
stirred in a brew,
baked in a millet cake...

I would make a stew,
a soup, a lover's mix
to bring your lovely thighs
to mine.

I would boil bats if not babies
& toads if not theologians
to make you care....

I would enter your blood
like malaria, enter your eyes
like laser beams, enter your palms
like the holy spirit
causing stigmata
to a sex-starved saint!

Oh, love,
I would spell you
evol
if mere anagrams
would bring you
near....

But I spell you love
& still
you do not
hear.


SAS