The Astral Scholar Writes To Mumtaj


So now he claims he wants to be your world,
to bear, in compass, all of your delights,
and vows that, once his tropics hold you virled,
he'll spin you brighter days and sultry nights.
In time, he'll reinvent himself afresh
from scarp to sky, each element of worth
distilled within the planetary flesh--
his offering:  a microcosmic earth.
Yet, peering through my scope, I track this course
which draws the tide across your delta cheek:
From greenish hue to cheesy, late remorse,
his change of face mars every passing week.
     In truth, is he your world?  From where I stand,
     he shines more like a moon than like a man.