Thursday, June 2, 2016

When I think of you, Pauline, unbound,
standing up there of your own free will
while I leap obstacles, some of them burning,
and climb short ladders just to reach you
in the hope that you still feel the same
as you did when we promised our love
forever, I wonder why you don’t jump down,
flee that cask-flinging hominid;
has he threatened you? Do you love him?
Do you love (forgive me) whichever primate
happens to have put you on a pedestal
no matter how furry, fanged, or feral?
Also, where does he get all those barrels?

• • •


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