Have you ever attempted to snatch a raw instinct
from your breast and, ignoring its loud and distinct
protests, sprinted it into your mind and slammed the skull shut?
How about the sparring of inner spirits; the fire of desire;
and the marauding magic of jaundiced jealousy as amplifier:
have their cold winds not made you tremble worse than a wet cat?
Have you ever attempted to grab time by its neck,
and tried to wring out drops of patience, and, as you beg,
coax and cry, you felt time’s winks mocking the wrinkles in your gut?
It is often said that, caged together long enough,
two hearts can grow fond and feathery soft as fluff.
Yet, rock with rock, obeying gravity, yields shatter and sand: Not?