For Men Who Still Consider Sex A Casual Occasion

It's always lust, whether you have some intention

Of making it last or not.

But when has the notion of a lasting passion

Even entered your mind?

And after so many women,

Isn't it obvious there's only one

You've any business doing this with?

Whatever you're looking for--

Harlot, mother, holy sister--

They all end up with the same words on their lips.

For even as you reach that other shore behind their eyes,

You can feel the questions swimming up after

And darting about your ankles

Like shy but famished fish:

"What is it that you see in me? Am I really the one?"

The eyes go on:

"I want the moon, you know.

Do you think you can give me that?

And even as you die inside me

Every time you come,

Is what I give you back then

Enough so you won't resent that?

And what of the smiling child

Who plays like a shadow about my mouth

Whenever you take my hand?

In taking my hand, you are making a promise

To the ones I have come from as much as to me,

And it speaks of all that's in store for us

Though most of that you cannot see.

After all, I'm dying too--

But not for a love any less than this."

Frederic Sibley

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