Saturday, November 14, 2009

Exercising the Prerogative Traditionally Extended to Women But Which Actually Goes Both Ways

I changed my mind.

UPDATE: Then changed it again. Really needed editing. Was too tired the other day. It's still not there.

King of Swords

Permission, Forgiveness

You have the power to make the decision
(And I'm ready to let you have it)
Once again I approach to ask,
And--I can't help it--it strikes me--

I know you're not much for art, but
In all these years of submitting my will
(Groomed to a turn) for your perfection,
May I say (may I?) that we've made something

Between us, something you could take
Pride in, really. We do this well.
We do it so it feels like hell--
(That's what she said.) I should say,
There is nothing amateur about it.

All the reasons a woman would get beaten down--
Too sunny, too sparkly, too smiley, too bold--
Oh, just the first course; we ran through that
Quickly, back and forth, like brushing the dirt
From your hands, a laborer done by five. No,

We're in the C-suites, with bonuses, options;
Executives, aligned. I exist,
You destroy; I breathe, you knock it out of me.
No mere well-oiled machine, not you:
A quality provider of comprehensive solutions.
(You've always had mine.) I might say I know
How you operate like my own mind:
What you like to watch, what you like to eat,
What raises your ire, and what puts you to sleep.

And that's how I know now
That this is the right time
To slide closer on my knees
To keep an eye on your eyes,
Closed, to keep singing softly,
And slowly reach my hand
To your lap, to tilt the hilt
And let fall into my hands
The sword you hold
That once was mine.

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