SYRINX, A PASTORAL FICTION (I) Poem by António Franco Alexandre

I'm going to put a dirty ad in the newspaper
asking for fresh, not especially athletic meat
and noble feelings of passion.
I want a - how shall I put it? - human
being who'll discover my mouth
and who, like me, has split hooves,
a blue bifid tongue and a rude
manner of singing under water.
I want someone who'll love me and leave me
with equally tranquil concision
and who'll record our encounter in a report
or a poem for inclusion in the syllabi
of the schools beyond the bridges.
And I wait by the phone to find out
if I'm happy, real, or just a foam
of ashes passing through sundry hands.