Naked Narcissus Poem by Robert Rorabeck

If I put my pen to you and scrawl,
Longingly like a pining god, would I bring
Reason to you, or the thoughtfulness of a pacaderm,
Or only mar the flesh;
But if I do it, let me come at night and think
Beneath your clothes, and line up syllables denoting
Seasons like a military parade,
For I am fearful of other lovers, Caesars and languid
Matadors, men whose tongues must extrude
The fermentations of European seas, the homelessness
Of vagabonds of Paris, the tragic sensuality of the Greek,
And when I was away doing my patriotic duty,
Laid down in your sylvan sheets, you take them to
Your secrets and put their francophone tongues
On your belly in invisible romance, their musk extrudes
From their vine, veins like either pollen or hypnosis,
So upon returning, if I lie with you and by flashlight
Scrawl my hard-won jaunts beneath your breasts,
Above your navel, while you giggle and delight spontaneously
With me like any other, and upon daylight returning
To your other woman, a work or a study, and let your
Eyes linger on the casualness of convenient opposition of
My sex, content yourself to know I am as your narcissus,
Interested only in the words I might find fluttering that day,
To capture and pin in lines along her inner thigh
So proudly and unsuspecting....