I haven’t got a melodious voice
To entrance you like a siren’s call.
I can’t move my body with grace and elegance--
Not the enticing way a nymph can.
I can’t paint on innocent surfaces
And make your soul cry with all the types of tears at once.
But, I have five strong fingers on one hand,
And a stubble of a pencil in my possession
So that they can create my stunning masks
And softest silk to wrap myself in layers.
Words,
To make me beautiful.
Words to wrap around me like a satin bow and make me pretty.
Does it make you shiver with desire
When I dress myself in Edgar’s woes
And Emily’s lyrical wit?
Perhaps you are an Ernest fellow or a Whit-y man.
If you are, sir,
Run along to the seas or some far away land
While I allure those who are left to endure
My…slipping into a comfortable Sapphic verse.
