“Hate me for my whole kind, but me,
love me for myself .” - Robert Pinsky
The rooms remain bare
No matter how much I fill them;
My embrace misjudged
Provokes a growl of resentment;
The hidden lines of olfactory text
Remain undiscovered in the field.
You never cared for my books…
Others of your kind
Perform a mime of your
Prostrations, but I kid myself
That I’m not fooled,
Pretend them toys or playthings:
Tokens of appeasement
From an unforgiving God
Who took you from my enjoyment.
How selfish we can be:
You taught me many things
I find it hard to be free,
As free as one who
Never knew the word existed.