In her late thirties, back when poetry was saved on paper, 1500 pages of this poet’s original works were irretrievably lost. She did not write again for over a decade, after which perhaps 50 of those pages were recreated word for word from memory. This was one of them.

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Recorded Reading (1:45):

https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/dv9xjuwnimzletm9c7tbs/The-Wish.mp3?rlkey=7gq3hnphbdirzbjpso9wlr92q&st=9mdp3bgy&dl=0

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The Wish

If I wished I would come to you covered in kisses
And for all your reserve, sir, you could not refuse
The spell I would weave you, my soft invitation
This supple and subtle performer to use

My glance cuts through ages and aeons between us
Leaving us vital and young and alive
Pulsing with power, impatiently waiting
Despairing the next moment ever arrive

But one of the pleasures of this time of life, sir,
Is learning to know that this game has its rules
To do as for ages on unending ages
They’ve done in the cloisters and celibate schools

Allow then the music to rock us together
We’ll scream with it, moan with it, beg it to please us
Teasing recalcitrant notes to fruition
Demanding that ultimate excess appease us

And when at the limits of genuine madness
Its terrible beauty has caused us to weep
We’ll play us a mystical soft spoken melody
And let our infinity sing us to sleep

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This poet/editor is physically disabled, and lives at a fraction of her nation’s poverty level.

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