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for F. A. You, in going a little way from yourself Have gone a long way from my gullible ilk. « I’m trying hard not to like you, » you said The breaths of several men surging in your nostrils And the stench abraded in your flesh : « You are unshaven. » You took proper care to remember the right words : « Why are you so far away, I cannot reach you. » The orgasm you probably tried to fake – Thanks for the repeated protestations - Blew all the other exhausted noises through. « I think it’s all this lack of sleep and all that, » you said Trapping me with your alien scents. You have gone away more than a little from yourself. I have felt and avoided the humiliation in your voice : « Turn out the lights. I’m afraid You’d never like me again. » These are bothersome words. Only constant repetition make them less wearisome. One whole week you waited and watched. One by one you chalked us down. We fled, not so much from you As from ourselves, not knowing which You or the condemned flower to take : « Why don’t you tell me something about yourself. I’ve said enough, » you said and came closer Wraithed in your trapper's overflying airs. Now that you have prospected a little Confiscated my intimate thoughts, coaxed my ego Applied the guileful balms which embolden A man in bed and made of the future a promise And turned and sighed like the unwanted thing Now that you have preyed in my sanctuary Gazed long in wistful silence my empty shrine How can I let you go – take my scent And mix it till it roots in other flesh And wandering, I’ll not know why someday I might fret in the company of familiar strangers. « What about the lad ? » Alone and wishfully loitering « Oh, let him toss and turn. Why shouldn’t he ? He’ll write better then, » you said, for once Rippling the nimble calm embossed on feigning face That poised flutter of your lips when words you wield Assume a dextrous innocence Little wonder then the sensually provoked blushes Cross-fertilise the loping lurk of your poems. You in going a little way towards me Have gone a long way from yourself. Before you go a little way prospecting Leave leave a little of yourself in your safe. ©: T. Wignesan, 1965 (from the collection: tell them i'm gone, 1983, rev. 2012)
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