“Delilah” (1999)
Teach me, he said—
we were lying in bed—
how to care.
I nibbled the purse of his ear.
What do you mean?
Tell me more.
He sat up and reached for his beer
I can rip out the roar
from the throat of a tiger,
or gargle with fire
or sleep one whole night in the Minotaur's lair,
or flay the bellowing fur
from a bear,
all for a dare.
There's nothing I fear.
Put your hand here—
he guided my fingers over the scar
over his heart,
a four-medal wound from the war—
but I cannot be gentle, or loving, or tender.
I have to be strong.
What is the cure?
Teach me, he said—
we were lying in bed—
how to care.
I nibbled the purse of his ear.
What do you mean?
Tell me more.
He sat up and reached for his beer
I can rip out the roar
from the throat of a tiger,
or gargle with fire
or sleep one whole night in the Minotaur's lair,
or flay the bellowing fur
from a bear,
all for a dare.
There's nothing I fear.
Put your hand here—
he guided my fingers over the scar
over his heart,
a four-medal wound from the war—
but I cannot be gentle, or loving, or tender.
I have to be strong.
What is the cure?
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