Poetic Interlude VIII

I.
LET ME TELL YOU OF MY BELOVED
His hands are stained from what he does
Which is GOOD WORK and gives him pleasure.
Let me tell you what I cannot tell you
Which is the beauty of his face - I am dumb
And maybe blinded - but not deaf
For ears cut off would return to hear him speak.
I WILL SWEAR he has the voice of........
an angel. It is raspy and tired. And lovely.
LET ME TELL YOU OF MY BELOVED:
Everyone should know.



II.
Tell me, Boy, for you have sad eyes
Are you like all your kind?
Do you make sebaceous decisions
And take what you can find?

Are your teeth perennially on edge
Are your hands untied?
I have seen so many men
But I have often sighed.