Damn Will

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Precious Aglaia, Dazzling Eos, Beloved Venus,
You Whom I worship, You Who Inspires My Every Breath,
My Most Treasured Jewel, My True Love, My Darling Juliet,
My soul grieves the ever-increasing distance between us and
my laments become frantic with longing for Your Presence.
I pace, conjuring metaphors whose purity and passion
might ring with startling clarity, praying that I may create the
perfect combination to rekindle our sweet, early intimacy.
Damn that half-addled, curiously morbid, plonk-swilling Will
penning that inane play romanticizing suicide
for teenagers thwarted in their first rut!
How dare he steal our holy, whispered names for his characters!
As I dash words to paper, I choke on a noisome cigar
whose makers claim their vile tobacco completes our story.
The label pasted onto the imperfect flask holding this tart, mediocre wine
prattles about our affair and Your Incomparable Loveliness,
as if slapdash praise imbues their pitiful product
with any of our tenderness or a mote of Your Exquisite Beauty.
I fulminate in a tiny studio on the 13th floor
of the Romeo and Juliet Inn near Verona.
A saucy cartoon character serves as my quill,
mocking my passion for You as he vulgarly ogles,
clutching a cheap heart inscribed with our sacred, eternal oath.
What preposterous images saturate this torturous era!
And, My Cherished Beloved, I succumb so easily to this unholy,
huckstering consumerism, this host of new Sirens
drowning the Silence of Your Graceful Reality.
Please Sing Your Lullabies slightly louder so I may again
harmonize with Your Impeccable Melodies.
Reanimate the forgotten knowledge of my role in Your Splendid Creation. Magnificent Mistress, Matrix of this Divine Design,
please heed my prayers and revive my Devotion to Living,
I beseech Thee.

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