By Ali
Date: 2007 Jul 14
Comment on this Work
[[2007.07.14.08.09.31464]]

His

She calls me a fool,
and I concede--
mother knows best, anyway.
My foolish ways have melted into wiles,
and I only smile, certainly, for him:
it's like being born,
it's like being undone,
it's a morning star.

She calls me indecent,
as if I don't already know,
but his eyes remember me,
and his voice connects me,
and his promise transcends
the words I thought I knew--
how could I walk away from my own heart?

She calls me crazy,
tells me I'm asking for trouble,
trading in one small tragedy for another,
but in the middle of this, I relent the struggle
and smile--
because I'm his,
and nothing (not even my good sense)
could change that.