GOAT WARS VI...

I. HOMEBOUND HAPPINESS

My lover calls, and for no reason, too,
Except to hear my voice, and I am thrilled.
I hear his voice, recall his kiss, his touch,
His eyes, his smell — and weaken with delight.

My love is hopeless; his I hope is true.
I hope against all hope no blood is spilled.
One kiss, and all I know's I don't know much,
Except such brilliant day must bring on night,

Without a moon, perhaps, no stars or few.
And if it come, and all my hopes are killed,
This love of long-spent youth is what I'll clutch
Close to my heart to pray that day dawns bright.

No fools like old fools, all the sages say,
And he and I grow older day by day.



II. HOMEBOUND LONGING

I press my face into the towel he used,
His pillowcase as well, to seek some trace
Of his aroma, but his smell's so faint
I find no more than that: a trace, a ghost.

Instead I pine, and ponder unamused
How long it is till I next see his face.
I know it well enough, but my complaint
Is that he's furthest when I need him most.

A tragic queen, a fool. I stand accused,
But who'd not seek such comfort, in my place?
My suffering's not silent — I'm no saint;
I keep the faith, and that's my only boast.

In truth, we'll meet quite soon, and then my soul
Within his arms will find itself made whole.
c