Thursday, 14 February 2013

Lesbian of the Thames


Why do they abhor you,
for finding the tender feeling
of sameness?
Why would you want the other:
the drunkard, the dullard,
the angry clenched-fisted,
the ugly-to-look-at-nude?


There are places of touch
in a woman,
a velvet of skin and of voice,
that are unattainable in man
(and that suits you just fine).


Consider how you are
in making love:
it’s yourself that you caress,
it’s a mirror that’s above you,
her name a thing of beauty,
not like Bob, Fred, Hector,
and the other slovenly louts
who would only seek
to own you.


I see you there,
by the Thames,
between the willows
and Pentecostals
passing tracts that burn
with fire,


holding her hand
along the curves
of your breasts
and hips,
winding in a way
that only a river
and a woman possibly can,


a fruit
no tree of knowledge
can ever take from you
again.




Andreas Gripp



2 comments:

  1. Andreas,

    a poem of sensitivity and compassion. Same-sex love is a tough topic to reach in poetry. I recall seeing once two gay teen girls holding hands in public and writing a poem for them afterwards. They did seem (as you sagaciously observe) to be celebrating a sameness that can't be violated by the "angry clenched-fisted". There was a purity there that was unassailable. Almost angelic.

    How odd that the Church still sputters its anti-gay venom.

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  2. thanks for your comments, Conrad, and for sharing your interesting writing experience. depending on which church, there may or may not be venom. some local Catholic priests, for instance, are quite supportive though the official teachings from Rome aren't where they should be -- hopefully that will change in the near future. all the best.

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