PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

That dyke, right over there, came up to me
just now and asked if I would like to be
her lover for what still remains of night.
And I told her to get out of my sight.
They do not, they will never, understand
that power that our performances command.
I am only an image on the stage
a set of words set down upon a page:
concepts expressed with craft and with illusion;
but some cannot escape their own confusion.
That I enact these scenes of Psapphic love
shows only that I have a mastery of
that kind of drama---but no designation
nor comment on my own orientation.
Quite candidly, the finest delectation
is that they think that I am beautiful,
although, seen, I am two dimensional
when playing.  I delight in that so much,
and need not be groped by impassioned touch.
Distant, apart, I seek a better prize
(better than love)---entrance into the soul,
right through the windows of their staring eyes
and take, as tribute, their imagination.