Do You Take This Man? Poem by Patti Masterman

The scattered evenings deliver intangibles,
Though late risen mornings hold promise
Of more imponderable, sordid daydreams:
I'm stealing your words now,
Because there's nothing else left
Of the tentative rawness, of emptied sunshine;
Eroded guilt is soon replaced
By more luckless enterprise;
As he turns you into just another
Vapid revision of himself.
My furious craving is more tedium
To your splintered songs;
Your words are only the fulcrum
To lever him out with;
Above your hips and lips
And naive, unconditional fealty,
Your bravely staring
Preterconscious dreams of orbital daylight-
Are you drawn inexorably into the wake
of his impossible stances;
His sudden proximities, his backlashing sentiments-
Because if you would only once
give of him everything that you were, and are;
You would have nothing left for him then,
And he would be forced to search
To find another fearless romantic
To accept his indemnified rare caress.
After all, they are only words,
And you can always get others;
So how can you say, 'I do? '
While knowing how short love, and cold
The little hope of heartless dreams?