Parasite

by Alfred Kreymborg

Good woman: Don’t love the man. Love yourself, As you have done so exquisitely before. Like that tortoise-shell cat of yours Washing away the flies; or are they fleas? You’ve hurt him again? Good! Do it often. No— He’ll love you the more— Always. Remember how he forgave you the last time, And how he loved you in the forgiving. Give him an adventure in godhood And the higher moralities. Hurt him again. Fine!

More poems by Alfred Kreymborg

All poems by Alfred Kreymborg →