Saturday, May 2, 2015
This ritual yeartide, when I seek full consent
To wander around a city, where I have wooed
You both unhappily and relentlessly,
Continues to convict me that nothing
Remains to me but honor and life, which is safe.
But your recent anger is death to me for
Which I plea to be pardoned to play freely
In a double game where masks are worn
By us, never seeing the other’s opposing side.
Soon your presence will be worth all this waste,
But in the meantime as I remember your face
This city becomes a universe of dear spite.