The Lie


How strange
that we create tales
of robots who feel

Who wonder and love
and rejoice in all the
emotions of humanity

When so many of us
plod around like automatons
hearts frozen to the cries of others
and to the cries
of their own



Dear beloved,
you purse your lips
and angrily avoid
comfort’s kiss

Dear beloved,
your haughty stare
creates greater longing
for weather fair

To soothe your ire
I’ll dance and sing
proclaim myself fool
if you’d let laughter ring

I’ll use my charms and all beguile
so honestly come and stay a while

Tell me the thorns that prick your heart
so gingerly, I can pry apart
the darkness curtaining a smile of sun —
dearly loved and harder won.