【power politics, 1971】
you fit into me,
like a hook into an eye
a fish hook
an open eye
--------
In restaurants we argue
over which of us will pay for your funeral
though the real question is
whether or not I will make you immortal.
At the moment only I
can do it and so
I raise the magic fork
over the plate of beef fried rice
and plunge it into your heart.
There is a faint pop, a sizzle
and through your own split head
you rise up glowing;
the ceiling opens
a voice sings Love Is A Many
Splendoured Thing
you hang suspended above the city
in blue tights and a red cape,
your eyes flashing in unison.
The other diners regard you
some with awe, some only with bordom:
they cannot decide if you are a new weapon
or only a new advertisement
As for me, I continue eating
I liked you better the way you were,
but you were always ambitious.
-----------
You held out your hand
I took your fingerprints
You asked for love
I gave you only descriptions
Please die I said
so I can write about it
-----------
i
We are hard on each other
and call it honesty,
choosing our nagged truths
with care and aiming them across
the neutral table.
The things we say are
true; it is our crooked
aims, our choices
turn them criminal.
ii
Of course your lies
are more amusing:
you make them new each time.
Your truths, painful and boring
repeat themselves over & over
perhaps because you own
so few of them
iii
A truth should exist,
it should not be used
like this. If I love you
is that a fact or a weapon?
iv
Does the body lie
moving like this, are these touches, hairs, wet
soft marble my tongue runs over
lies you are telling me
Your body is not a word,
it does not lie or
speak truth either.
It is only
here or not here.
----------
Don't let me do this for you,
you are not those other people
you are yourself
Take off the signatures, the false
bodies, this love
which does not fit you
This is not a house, there are no doors,
get out while it is still
open, while you still can
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