HTTP://Shakespeare
Seventeenth century coy shyness can
make a new millenium tragedy.
Anonymous admirers’ messages
are carried by digital cable, downloaded
into unsuspecting hearts,
wondering if lips could do
what hands do.
Your light petal eyes spied
my words, pining for a
short-haired Rosalind. So
you called my phrases honey
and asked for a taste in verse.
And when I answer
with new lines, you escape
like Ophelia into drowned silences,
citing an Ariel ephemerality –
“moving soon”
and a pacifist defense
“don’t want to hurt you.”
Let me trace the lines of your
face with my softest gazes,
because I can learn
to pray with just my eyes.
Keyboards make distance
when Jersey winters could be warm.
We’re both tragic heroes.
Like Lear, I am blinded –
This time, I shant betray Cordelia.
But don’t let digital verses
that hang soft
promises be betrayed
just so you might be named
Lady Macbeth,
murderer of my heart.
2/11/05
Meet me.
