I Never Liked Scarlett, and I Wanted to Kill Rhett My name is not Juliet And you are not the modern Romeo. When we kiss No music will pour from the heavens. There will be no birds chirping No moment of perfection. This will not be a kiss Of life and death. Our lips will meet Our toungues touch And our teeth will bang together As we learn the shape of each otherís Mouth. My name is not Isolde, And you are not a revamped Tristan. My breast is not a rose-tipped cloud, Do not call me milky-white. My breast bears the battle scars Of bras ineptly undone And of hands Too eager in their exploration. When you touch it You will feel Flesh. My name is not Guinevere And you can not pretend to be Lancelot. When we make love There will be no symphony Our bodies will not melt. You will not rescue me. We will unbutton our pants Before removing our shoes. You will reach for my lips And get a mouthful of hair. You might leave Without saying the proper Good-bye. My name is not Psyche And Eros was just a myth When we fall in love No arrow will pierce your heart You will not be flying down any street. It will be complicated. It will be a confusion. We will not be a love poem. Instead, we shall laugh We shall delight in our imperfections We shall battle any who tell us We have to be a greeting card. And, we shall know that what is Has infinite more potential Than what could not be.
Leslie Lansman's Questions:
Does this poem work, or is the idea repetitive and over drawn?
Do the different stanzas, each evocative of a different level of intimacy, build to a larger picture, or is there no need for such specificity?
I basically believe that poetry should be easy to understand, that poetry should be infintaley readable and approachable, the problem with this belief is that sometimes things can become too readable, too approachable, is this a problem here?
Do you think following up on the imagry of fabled lovers would be a good addition to the poem, or is referencing them through only their names enough?
Thank you for your comments.