Give Me a Man Who Loves Me Reclining

 

One of my favorite poems, I don't usually write humorous ones


Inscription on an Etruscan Mirror

O Turan Hinthia,
Send me a man
Who loves me reclining.
Not standing up to work the olive press
Like those tribal girls down in Rome,
Nor in a back room, sitting at the loom,
A wordless maiden throwing the shuttle
From Athens to Sparta
Hour after hour.
My lady, I entreat you,
Send me a man
Who loves me reclining.
Not kneeling, eyes cast down,
Though all men look
With favor on a woman thus,
Nor lying on my back
As coastal women must.
O thou, who knowest my desire,
Hear me now and
Give me a man who loves me reclining.
I will catch his gaze across a level table, dining,
I, leaning on my elbow, ankles crossed
And smiling wisely.
O, Turan Hinthia
Send me a man who loves me reclining.


 

I May Fall Back Asleep