Treasure Island

David McLansky

(5/24/1944 / New York City)

The White Ship (31)


(31) At the Crossroads


When Cupid shots his love-tipped dart
He pierces more than just the heart
His toxic point infects the brain
And leaves the vanquished half-insane.

His victim stumbles on the field
Wounded, lost, and forced to yield;
He strips them boldly of their armor
And ransoms them to any charmer.

My love stood quaking in my arms
Her soul exposed and thus alarmed
Naked, trembling ‘gainst my chest
Defenseless now, a prize possessed.

She shuttered in my trembling arms
My body shaking, aroused, alarmed
I felt as frightened as she did
Glad my muffled face was hid.

Submitted: Friday, April 05, 2013
Edited: Thursday, October 10, 2013

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