If Ever There Was Madness

Silently I stand and hear you hurl Your grief abroad that all men should defend The coverts of their souls like plants that furl Their petals from the night. I watch you spend Your youth and mine in schemes to take by storm Of metaphor and theory, the prize Men camouflage with casual glance, the warm, Quick hearts that hide behind their cautious eyes.

If ever there was madness it is this— That one so deaf and blind should hope to learn Such secrets, for they shouted in my kiss, Yet you could kiss me fleetingly and turn Away, not knowing that what things are true Of twice ten thousand must be taught by two.