A PORTRAIT
Death on your horse,
sickle in hand,
what spirits pass through those lips?
What living nectar intoxicates?
Do you dance wildly on the table,
strip off your robes,
and gyrate your hips,
after a full glass of soulful champagne;
perhaps even say things you forget
and for which you must a apologize later?
No, I do not believe
you have ever apologized.
R. Bruce Messler