If you have read them, Otto, you must accept
they merely speak of friendship in the way
a man like Hans–odd, inelegant, bereft
of adoration–might. He does not stray
into hyperbole, since from his pen or mouth
such falseness would be obvious. If beauty
has its persuasion, plainness has its clout
in purpose. Think of Hans as I do, his duty
to his art bringing time and again to fruition
his clever tales, though he has no consort
to recite the genius of his compositions.
We would do well to wish him the port
of a lenient lover, her warmth, her sighs,
as he lies blessedly spent between her thighs.
Copyright © 2016 by Myrna Stone. Reprinted with the permission of Etruscan Press, www.etruscanpress.org NOTE: It releases April 17