Page 51 - WTP Vol. VII #6

Proverbs
The old Latin masters (who never knew they were ancient ) saw how it worked, knew how sad and funny it
was, long before psychoanalysis
rediscovered the tragic tableaux.
One desperately kisses. The other offers a triumphant cheek - while keeping an opportunistic eye
on the interesting, disdainful face
just outside the door. Lovers are like that,
never two equal fires, but a match, a flint
- the spark something else entirely that
doesn’t truly belong to either. We theorize we’re arbitrarily tilted into sex by a random variant.
But every woman carries a trapped, eternal boy in her, every man, his lost wild sister. Spirits, angels, genies whisper out of the heart into a heartless smile
that leaves you helpless. It’s no surprise we have to grow old before we get wise, before we learn to distinguish
between nourishment and bait.
Beck is a San Francisco poet, essayist, and poetry translator. His Mea Roma, a Meditative Sampling from M. Valerius Martialis was published in 2018 by Shearsman Books.
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