Ungrateful

From here, within the citadel of privilege,
I don't understand. I sallied forth to
Rescue you, a man, absurd, I must admit,
Not young or comely, stuffed, as that red
Stuff one finds in olives is, into my hero's
Metal suit, upon my horse. I rescued you,
But you've not given me your garter.
You have neither kissed my cheek, nor
Said, "My heart belongs to you." Instead,
It almost seems you're angry. Your
Head's turned, and, from my window,
In this realm of privilege, I swear I hear
You swearing at me, saying, "I know
How to save myself."



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 78 times
Written on 2015-04-07 at 00:49

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