New Millennium Helen of Troy
A thousand ships your face launches
Pitting my ship against a fleet of others
Snatching my heart, in a morass of mud drugging my haunches
Pouring torrents of my tears and fears in front of my brothers
Rendering me disconsolate
Wondering why I let you in
Although it ain’t too late
To clean up the savoury scene
In which I swim in the juice
I find hard to invest or taste
Even when I manipulate the sluice
In slow motion or in a haste
To beseech your adorable facial asset to tone down the torment
On me you inflict
To establish whether blues you foment
Initiate no conflict
Between your conscience and hearts you singe
At will
When terrified hearts in front of you cringe
As you swill
The red wine of pain and strain you rain
On hapless hearts crazy enough to fall at the feet
Which in the main
Under duress greet
Your sublime beauty
At night, at sunup, at sunset, at dawn when by the nose
You pronounce me guilty
Of presenting you a Valentine red rose.
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