If I spoke of Love

I ache for him

I know not why

Despite welcome distractions others provide

unknowing of my torment

it is his soul it seems

that has cleaved with mine

Have I presumed too much

 in thinking that, like me,

he has cowered in the harshness of

unbending conventions

heedless as they are

 of the only law the soul would observe?

What then would he say

if I spoke of love?

How would he feel?

Would it bring unbearably sweet relief to him

as it would to me

were he to declare

in one unguarded moment

(that’s all it would take):

I ache for you too?

Riposte

Oh Fool!

Parade not in the nakedness of Love

Stick instead with the role you know best:

High Prisoner of our necessary fears

and speak

if you do at all

of something uncharged with risk like

a new project

You know

some such banal pretext that

Convention

(Hail Holy Her!)

 would roundly approve!