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A Dialogue with Temptation
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I.
Your hair always smells of honey and hemlock
in the evening, when you're pressed
to my shoulder, pinching grapes in red bunches
and lifting them to my lips.
Your laugh is frightening, forbidden, fulfilling
when I say your name--Helen,
Persephone, Lolita, Temptation, you
with your wild eyes and short cuts,
goddess, idol, Venus of the brine, and--
You! Reducing me to this,
to a victim of obsession, yet I can
not give in. Temptress, I wish
you had never heard of my wishes, and you
would keep your hands to yourself.
II.
Oh sweet and dear liar! I am Temptation?
My name is Love, you said it
yourself when you gave me your house key, begging
me to come with a full vine.
I am only the goddess that you make me;
I dare you to let me leave.
