5.

 

My Lesbia, let us live and love,
and not count the howling of rigid old men
worth even one thin dime.
The days extinguish and begin anew
but for us, when our own brief light is snuffed,
there is one interminable catnap of night.
Kiss me a thousand times, a hundred,
then thousands more, another hundred,
myriads of myriad kisses,
then, when we have kissed them all,
we will shuffle them up to a number neither we
nor any wicked man could total so to cast an evil eye
or comprehend in full the precision of our kisses.

 

 

next

 

[ page 2 of 13 ]