Women

Speak in tongues lit by fire.
Turn their insides out
so that a man may know
what they want,
and cross the corners
so that he might never ask.
Give themselves over to riddles
and yet speak bluntly whenever possible.
Be ever-so distant in public
while given and giving
and vulnerable in private.
Simple courtesies and the mysteries of night.
The splendor of the species,

Four A.M. With The Devil

When the night grows old
and yet so far away.
Children slumber
not thinking of the devil inside.
Women dream of another's embrace
while sleeping in their husbands' arms.
Old men walk in circles in the park
while muttering loud riddles to one another.
Babies cry loud for mama
who is not awake.
And I think of you in your bed
unable to shake the image of your face.

© Copyright 1999, W. S. Mayo.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.