Men are from Mars

Into your eyes
I venture
deeply....
you bend to kiss my breast,
uncertainties scrabbling
to hide
beneath abandoned
memories.

A museum of hurts
frozen at attention,
white-lipped, refusing
to cry out.

I lie back,
and in your hands
I touch yesterday's child
soaring with superheroes
(limping now, lost in dusty detours).

Almost at the centre
I find myself,
shut out and angry,
yet somehow knowing
and accepting all.



June '97