Roz Kaveney (rozk) wrote,
Roz Kaveney


Dark eyes in cafe; half-way down the street
trousered legs strut; a soft voice on the phone.
And every certainty you think you own
will be destroyed. You do not have to meet

the woman or the man seen in a bar.
Their face illuminated by your gaze
a second, then you think of them for days
Lust takes you. All the things you think you are

Faithful or queer or straight. She takes the net
in which her husband trapped her once, and throws
it over us. Don't fight her, for she knows
the secrets of your heart. She's love, and yet

she's hot as blood and harsh as cruelty
and wayward as the white foam of the sea
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