USE ME WELL
Women...weapon-less women
Rushing at me on horses
Waving hands dripping blood.
The river tumbling in the distance
In a village mud-hut
I like this view
But not the furnishings.
Feelings inviting self-indulgence
That’s how I compose my love
A peculiar design for love.
I am pregnant with my love
I will die giving birth to it
How so, like a woman.
Part of my love dwells underneath
That part reacts
She is that part within me.
She knows me so well
Like a woman knows her man
I despair of her
Ever understanding me.
She so loves me...
Without knowing, thinking
What is it to be her?
She has no wherewithal of
She is like shouted words
I spoke them
No one heard them
Perhaps someone would hear them
Silence is loved by silence!
She uses love as a persuader
Even when she spites me
And use me well...
For, I cherish her
Boldness is distraction
Walking in the open
Is not love’s tradition
It is not a word for men.
