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as Portia;

Nearing night, from out of the blue
in you came with talk of curious wonder.
Where all about you gathered round yon women of tomorrow.
With prominent, appealing grace in a lottery
of misconceptions, ideas, dreams & gossip
where iron caskets seal away your gold & silver charms,
for one to find your rumours in a photograph.
Yet with mischance, or fortune's choice,
one might muse, another slain, then marry
your discretions. But you who deem me vain
with greed, unworthy of your loneliness,
will make me hide with guilty eyes, in subtle nervous glances;
to bow before your rabble cursing patriarchy
whilst you yourself obsessively desire domination.

Still if one dare to trouble you the question
All that he may gift is this
and then,
your sovereignty.

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4/15/2021 8:54:50 PM #