by: Michael Strange
- OR what
have you sought my love,
- Along those flashing wastes of passion?
- Who move so wearily as the dawn's unwilling step
- Over-stamped in ruins of unlimited woe.
- O what crucifix you, tortured
- Into nailing yourself against?
- That your arms are become so attenuate
- As those stark supplicating limbs of nightmare.
- I wounder, have you assaulted life in darkness
- And whispering
- I need you so! oh let me--
- Yet when the spear entering, nailing you
- Into frantic submission,
- You crying out from the very center nerve
- Of such ecstasy, I have fear!
- Since you selling then into bondage
- What you might surmise only--
- And for the witchery of moments
- Since you denying of yourself
- More than you could have known
- Before self-betrayal.
- And all in order to induce
- Those scarlet wings of appalling lips
- To glisten, close, across your mouth.
- Yet when this tease of pleasure
- Titillating curious truth-stained exclamations out of you
- And their sense languishing mateless unanswered along the
- Ah, then you turning to regard
- The gracious youth of your sleeping love
- Alongside of your waking, ageless heart.
POEMS BY MICHAEL STRANGE
"I Want of You" is reprinted
from Poems. Michael Strange. New York: Brentano's, 1919.