The Affront

If I misspoke in saying I love you
Not in words but with gestures, gentle sighs,
Desiring you, trust only that it’s true,
And blame what seems uncivil on your eyes.
If I offend you saying I love you
Unspeaking but by my mere presence, bent
Too near (each breath escapes me whispering so),
Accuse that stealthy criminal, your scent.
If I insult you saying I love you
With muted touches barely brushing skin,
Preverbal moan of wordless longing through
Delicate mouthings, call out your lips then.
For these incited feelings, causing action:
Of your eyes, scent, lips ask for satisfaction.

November 26, 1988