THE GOAT IN TRIUMPH... and OTHER VEHICLES...

I.

I know that you await a plaintive call.
I've made no secret of my love, my need—
And this is my reward! — my blood would boil
Were not my heart so very full and sore.

It's true I can't resist your touch at all,
And I've been lost since we first "did the deed."
Not your first fruit, I'm far too green to spoil,
But I can long and burn, and long for more.

I'm lost. Do you expect to see me crawl?
Well, I shall crawl in time, though my heart bleed,
To find the arms, embraces, of my foil,
To drink your sweetness in at every pore.

But will I call, crawl now as you expect?
Or will I show some shreds of self-respect?


II.

You set such subtle hooks in my poor flesh,
Your touch is fire. Tell me you don't enjoy it,
You don't play them just to keep wounds fresh,
To show me who's the man here, who's the boy—

I'd find no peace. Can all my years of struggle
To become a man come down to this?
My heart lept just to see your ugly mug,
And knew its cause was lost with that first kiss.

So here I am, the Boy Who Would Be Man,
The Inner Girl Come Out, lost to your charm,
Led back to where it clearly all began:
A sucker for a chest and muscled arm.

No dreamed abasement ever could surpass
This loss of manhood's dream. I'm such an ass.


III.

What days of wonder! bracketed by nights
Of now familiar pleasures in your arms...
But, oh, those days — what unimagined sights:
The ones I love most fall prey to your charms.

No bird in any nest is safe for long—
You charm them all; they settle at your feet
To hear the practiced power of your song.
How strange my fall should make their fall so sweet.

Perhaps I am not crazy after all,
If they too meet your charm just to give in,
But now your absence settles like a pall
On me: I fear my own charms will wear thin...

Then hope leaps up against all sense: you're mine!
That toothbrush is both promise and a sign...
C