Poisonous Weeds
My memories resentful of love
Are as dear to me
As my caressing touch
Of an ebony chest.
From day to day I live along
Punctuating my spotlessly white soul
With dots of crimson and of gold.
Like my heart, awaiting you,
The flowers in my bouquet will wither
Before the night has passed.
I find myself becoming
A miserable coward.
Might I not as well
Be your wife?
34 
