from Braided Lives, by Marge Piercy

We dance together, naked woman
and man in full armor, clanking.
When he presses me tight to his
bosom, mine is impaled
on a protective spike.  If
you love me, you’ll kiss me,
he says, and knocks out my teeth.
If you love me, you’ll save
me from this imprisonment he
says as he fits a new point
to his lance and climbs
on his horse and charges.  You
didn’t really love me
he mutters to my corpse;
that’s why I’m still locked
in here.  Oh, the love
of woman is weak.  It sure
is my blood sings like gnats
in the evening as he
goes clanking off.

Thanks to Sara who reminded me how much I like Piercy’s writing.
 

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About bookmole
I am pro-choice. You make yours, I'll make mine, okay?

One Response to from Braided Lives, by Marge Piercy

  1. Kzinti says:

    Interesting. So, she gives all of herself, her love, while he remains behind his protective barriers, his “prison” and all the while telling her that if she loved him, she would free him from that “prison”, the suit of armor, the “prison” of his own making? Deep…

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