I turned to you as if to say: Push him out!
Touch me with your brave new hands; erase
him from my ribs, from my arms, from my face ...
Let your lips be rain falling on the drought
in my body—
Then I was reaching
(as if I could) and perhaps you were fooled
into thinking me ready to be pulled
away. You wanted me, and I was beseeching
you—Then help me (for I could make no better
offer—it was a start—than a promise to try—)
push him out!—but he pushed back and I would cry
and you would kiss and as my eyes grew wetter,
you would know; and become angry and empty and cold.
What could I tell you—but what was already told—?
Touch me with your brave new hands; erase
him from my ribs, from my arms, from my face ...
Let your lips be rain falling on the drought
in my body—
Then I was reaching
(as if I could) and perhaps you were fooled
into thinking me ready to be pulled
away. You wanted me, and I was beseeching
you—Then help me (for I could make no better
offer—it was a start—than a promise to try—)
push him out!—but he pushed back and I would cry
and you would kiss and as my eyes grew wetter,
you would know; and become angry and empty and cold.
What could I tell you—but what was already told—?
