You saw me first Isabella

By | 1 August 2010

~Keats: Isabella or The Pot of Basil (after Boccaccio)

You saw me first Isabella, passing
beneath your window. Tongue stilled,
dagger at my throat. You mistook my silence
for indifference. I smiled in spite of myself.
The wind filled your ears with sounds
you alone could hear. Lorenzo. My name
travelled like a curse from your lips.
From your lips I rode
into a forest quiet for the slaughter.

Later, in the glade, we met again.
In the shade of a poison oak – you above
I below – we spoke
of gold and wasted hours
(beneath the wasted stars
among the wasted flowers).
Your black nails dripped with silt.
My black mouth smiled
in spite of itself.

You kissed me once and tried the word – love.
Then quickly buried me like a guilt.

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