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Cup
How much of myself shines through,
and how much is just the cloak your fear,
clouding your mind, sets upon me.
Do you see the bright boy who michaelangeos
his way through the gleaming oracular webs,
find his way free to be himself.
Or a monster, shrouded in his own mists,
unmoving toward your salvation, glittering
with lies, teeth of steel words.
Does he lie with you in radiant love, trusting you
to nurture his dreams of glory, your man,
stretching his fathom in deep knowing.
Alas, he could be the poor beggar boy who steals your heart,
with words of languages sublime and exotic, facts
of lace and ambiguity, always climbing out windows.
Do you see him in the mirror, kissing your neck, his
fragrance of silver and lemonade caresses you,
you have always given in to him, utterly.
Howling down upon you, he could be the raptor of your soul,
holding a lantern down a dark path, filling you with hope,
always jovial, never curt, finally extinguishing the light.
How full is your joy, to find your way to him, seeing his
reflections in your eyes, knowing his goodness, tasting his
promises, wrapping yourself in his full cloak.
