“the poet and the Woman”

You observed and told me I hold a deep deficit—
for I give love more than I take.
“Why be this poor man, naked in rivers,
sending your clothes and canoe down the way?”

I laughed and told you I am not shivering,
although most days I cannot feel my own legs.
I have no price.
I have no owner.
My all must be given away.

Thank you for advising that I host these silent lovers.
Like vultures over a shark,
they ride the outskirts of my heart.
It is true they appreciate me better from afar—
than next to where I lay.
But this is the virtue of the poet and the woman.
It is better to make this love quiet—
than to hear her complain.

So, when I ask you not to undress here,
please do not feel rejected, ashamed or neglected.
Please know that I love you the same.
For you are my woman and I am your poet;
My hand on your breast through the page.

narrative poem written on 11-02-2009 by: on mattkane.com
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