Idol Ii - Poem by Morgan Michaels
'I must have you, come home with me,
I have such plans for you, you see, '! An equally
plausible theory, but which is true I don't know,
and maybe should decide, some day,
but evidence, alas, is lacking. Still and all,
you haunt me, little Cretan idol, you do,
and I am suddenly tempted to: dance wildly about you
as if you were a calf of beaten gold-genuflect, bow,
singing, down to you, whirl, twirl, and otherwise lose
control, but can't, for I know you're not my god.
Now what should we do? Worship? Call a guard?
Gestures, shouts, in dubious taste,
I suggest we leave-leave in all haste, and now-
I want to see the Meissen, anyhow.
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