Paraklausithyron, or: love (?) through a locked door
Sitting now below your window—
One whom I would have as lover—
Weary from the mountain air, I
Come to make my case.
In the pasture I was lonely,
Singing tales for dimwit sheep who
Flicked their ears and said my song was
Fuck the sheep! I sing for you, my
Dandelion, white with wishes—
I wish you might kneel before me
Crowned with crocheted lace.
Come with me, we’ll scale the mountain,
Free of prying ovine eyes—let’s
Ride away where even nymphs won’t
Find our hiding place.