More Submissive Poem by Uriah Hamilton

She held my hand as we climbed

The magnificent staircase of the art museum,

it was a summer holiday and we were slightly tipsy

From afternoon wine in the flower garden.



She touched my lips and spoke,

'Nothing more for you to drink,

I don't want the curator to dismiss you as a drunk

Who would fail to appreciate this sacred place

With landscapes of Delacroix and Renoir'



I was only inebriated enough to be happy in the moment

Of our footsteps intimately keeping pace with each other;

I felt indebted to the Greek gods Dionysus and Pan

That I was alive and wrapped in her perfume.



She would point to paintings or ancient pots

But I would smile and say, 'I only want to gaze

Quietly into the mystery of your eyes.'

But I could tell she was becoming irritated

that I wasn't taking in the scenery of my surroundings

More completely, so I became more submissive

and less outwardly in love.