Plume Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Oh yes, I know about the scriptures of convention,
of solid pledges said to magistrates and more,
though it was never my desire or my intention
to shoot small arrows into flesh to blow the door
which would admit me as the egotist of time
rip out the heart of those who never harmed a child,
there is a ledge on which no soul commits a crime
it's where I live my friend and no one calls me wild.

A spouse is nice, perhaps essential, it's okay!
We all have ties and little buzzards to behold,
I would not ask you to be different and betray
your so congenial and so urgent placid mould.

May I be part of what you are, it is my wish,
to hold your hand across the godalmighty pond,
if you let go and I fall down to feed the fish
it means we never had a true eternal bond.

Would you permit me to predict for you and me,
the word jamais has been in waiting in your womb,
we shall not ever lose our hearts' internal key
there is no end in sight for our little plume.