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.