Samuel of the dark skin, Alistair pale
neither capable of involving themselves
it takes one to know one
and here we all are, engaged in bandying each other about, hoping, by
bashing, to come to some knowledge of ourselves that we can be proud of.
while all too often the bashing turns to punching and kicking and we are
left ashamed
I loved him, she thought, why was that not enough? why is life so greedy?
what else is demanded of us?
apparently it's no easier to carry on a homosexual relationship these
days
perhaps once when things were clearer - where one stood in the scheme
of things, perhaps then, Samuel's lover's cold and calculating manipulations
would have seemed appropriate but today we all want to be known and that
takes us post haste, do not pass go and no hundred dollars, back to bashing
she was waiting for a word from him
and that sentence, that thought, that situation, in situ
that circumstance put her dead in the center of the metaphor of gender
relations that has haunted literature
she waited for a word from him
while he was conquering empires
she waited for a word from him
while she grew larger with each of their children
she waited for a word from him
| while he had to make a living, see the boys down the pub, the corner,
the office, the golf course
she waited for a word from him while her parents died, while her children
were born
this waiting is all too much like death
|