the harlequin of harely quinn

she ran the sea at twenty-three then took over the sky

she danced just like a windswept leaf that violently blew by

butterfly biscuits barely bake unless you baste and burn

by the time she turned forty-two love’s lessons she had learned

 

so many guys had come to lie with grace before a meal

but once their flesh was satisfied dessert did not appeal

i came along and wrote her songs, reciting poetry

but weary wounds from all the wrongs would not let her believe

 

she said i was a harlequin so i looked up the word

a jester who seeks his own ends, not some romantic nerd

but i obsessed, yes without rest as beauty makes me do

and oh the beauty she possessed had left me tried and true

 

for poetry poured out of me and slowly wore her down

she kissed me on a sunset beach with flowers for a crown

i wrote “beauty” in the wet sand which waves all washed away

said, “i’ll still be holding your hand even when beauty fades”

she took a flower from her hair said, “they’re forget-me-nots”

and placed it between both her breasts, a coquette flowerpot

 

          *