Poetry Drawer: Let Me Be Weak by Stephen Mead

A half hour, an hour.
No one has to know.
You can fold your hands
about my wrists
as though they were stems.
You can hold your arm
about my back,
the shoulders,
the hips/
and lean me right over.
I’ll be malleable satin.
I’ll be soft water showering.
I’ll surrender, submit,
passive but for passion
and a will that,
for awhile, just
needs to yield.

These are my edges,
and with them I’ve buffed days.
I’ve reflected the hard facts.
Yet I trust you will not snap
what time itself
has yet to.

Inky Interview Special: Stephen Mead, Poet and Multi-Media Artist from Albany NY

Poetry Drawer: Lowering The Lights by Stephen Mead

Leave a Reply