I do not deny that you have been long reviled
for your part in the humilation
of your Lover, the Poet, Oscar Wilde,
to offer some amelioration
to your punch-happy father's aggravation.
You cast undue complexity
upon Homosexuality.
You relied upon many prejudices
the way a herniac depends on trusses.
But the most mysterious anomaly
is that, despite your spoken excesses
(the kind any hater gladly professes),
you could compose such poignant Poetry;
such a charming poem---that beautiful piece
of beauty you called Jonquil And Fleur-De-Lys.
ENVOI:
Yet, Sir, whenever I read any Poem
of yours, I think of your rage and fury,
and the slurs launched from your mouth in a hurry
befitting the hatreds of . . . oh, say . . . Ernst Rohm.
J-Called
[*/+/^]