Passion Poem by Suzette Richards

through the key-hole surgery of my delicate heart
you have reached into the inner sanctum of my soul
in Plato's cave where I have locked away my demons
betrayed by worm casts of secretive earthworms

cold and unyielding
queen conch shell lips suited for bathroom decoration
relentlessly searching out my responses
fevered brow only registers your fragrance
reminiscent of a gallery of stalactites and stalagmites
which alternately drip and collect in a sterile environment
deep in the bowls of the earth
striving to rival the statue of Shapur
where enlightenment and conscience never reach
you're only to be admired by a mere lucky few

it is just a happenstance that I was not the first
to succumb to wiles
my heart now keeps pace
with a deceit of lapwings
slowly stirring the air around their ground roost—
drawing fire away from it

I willingly prostrate myself on rocks you command
resigned to my fate to be used in lapidary
and turned into an objectified status symbol

surrender is ultimately more satisfying
and infinitely sweeter