Love poem to my plague doctorThis morning you, my true loveMore Like This
tapped a heartbeat into my door
with an oak cane.
I didn't answer.
I wasn't afraid of you, I promise.
In fact shaking swept over me
a feverish need to pull you in
rising from my chest to my throat.
When you left I coughed it out.
It lay there on my floor
thick and red, but not so much my blood
as my offering
It is noon.
My neck stings and pulses
for you to kiss it.
But of course you won't.
Perhaps this attraction
the beauty I see in the way you're covered by a beast
is the same that creates
werewolves, minotaurs, and politicians.
I wouldn't want a man
so please, don't take your mask off.
Don't look at me without the glass over your eyes.
You live if they can't see you, true love of mine
and I want us to live.
I think you flew away
this morning, black cloak catching the filthy air
and roosted on top of the headstone they are building me.
I would rather succumb
than think you might be at another house
with a new girl you cannot touch.
I will call