By Maggie Mink
Date: 11 March 1998

MORATORIUM . . .

I want some time . . . . (I tell you)
A need to become molten again...(you listening?)
It is the only way to fit the mold...(I think you nodded)

Always me dancing between fire and ice,
Dreading to catch your notice . . .
Yet, attentive to your every whim.

You are brazen in your seduction.
You give me your best ovation.
Can you see my thoughts flee to him?

I light fire in you with my secular glance,
Irretrievable, irreverent, irrevocable.
Why am I drawn to your flame?

We haven't reached insurmountable.
Why can't he, earthly, proud, devoted . . .
Why can't he draw me in the same?

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