“ARIEL to Miranda: Take
This slave of music for the sake
Of him who is the slave of thee;
And teach it all the harmony
In which thou canst and only thou
Make the delighted spirit glow
Till joy denies itself again
And too intense is turn’d to pain.”
When first we touched, you smelt of smoke,
Of one-night bars and ice.
Your perfect hollowness, as though
It echoes even mine.
That gentle protest as I stroke
Your neck; and when you bite
My fingertips and moan: I know.
Our hips and waists align.
These wires, I could strangle you,
So artful, leaning in,
I pace my breath. You’ll hurt me, too.
Hold tight, as we begin.
I called my new guitar Sapphire for a number of reasons: knowing full well that it could be the name of a good time girl somewhere in Florida.