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If I heard a voice from heaven say 'Live without loving,'
I'd beg off. Girls are such exquisite hell.
When desire's slaked, when I'm sick of the whole business,
Some kink in my wretched nature drives me back.
It's like riding a hard-mouthed horse, that bolts headlong, foam flying
From his bit, and won't answer the rein-
Or being aboard a ship, on the point of docking, in harbour,
When a sudden squall blows you back out to sea:
That's how the veering winds of desire so often catch me -
Hot Love up to his lethal tricks again.
All right, boy, skewer me. I've dropped my defences,
I'm an easy victim. Why, by now
Your arrows practically know their own way to the target
And feel less at home in their quiver than in me.
I'm sorry for any fool who rates sleep a prime blessing
And enjoys it from dusk to dawn
Night in, night out. What's sleep but cold death's reflection?
Plenty of time for rest when you're in the grave.
My mistress deceives me - so what? I'd rather be lied to
Than ignored. I can live on hope. Today
She'll be all endearments, tomorrow throw screaming tantrums,
Envelop me one night, lock me out the next.
War, like love, is a toss-up. If Mars is inconstant, he gets that
From you, his stepson. You're quite
Unpredictable, Cupid, with your lucky-dip favours,
And more volatile than your own wings.
Maybe you'll hear my appeal, though - your delectable mother
Might help there-and settle in as king of my heart?
Then admit the flighty sex en masse to your dominions
And you'd have guaranteed popularity all round.
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Hah! See what you all get for letting women into the dojo!?!
Peace,
Lori
