INTENT
Woman! Hold!
Your wit does seem to boldly reach,
And miss; I need permission.
You stop short of my breath.
Man, know
Who last draws blood
Must wield intention with an uncloaked hand.
This was never woman's first command.
Nor was the brazen word.
So hold, sweet voice with hard intent.
Your eyes still tarry
Where a melting touch was meant.
Come friend, enough, do not despise
The flavour of old moments
Rapt and body wise
To blend the colour of our swift eyes.
So I must take you friend,
Word, laugh and gentle touch;
Nor disbelieve your garment,
Veil and prize. Unwrap your giftwrap,
Know your slender boughs,
Hide our seeing eyes with kisses,
Like wishes
Like love, friend,
Our moments without vows.
Thor, 1976