“Waiting for Beauty”
I keep waiting for Beauty to kiss me with her lips.
I keep waiting.
I look to the clock and then to the moon.
I put on my best frock and sing a tune.
I look at Beauty directly, and then try to be sly,
But Beauty always tricks me; she passes on by.
I do not feel Beautiful, for Beauty always eludes me.
Like a snob I envy, she excludes me.
I wonder why.
I wonder if I’ve cleansed my heart enough
To where it comes shining through.
I wonder if I’ve shortened my tongue
To where all I say is true.
Will then, Beauty, come bounding in
Like a sleek grey cat with a fat wide grin?
Curl ‘round my ankles to nuzzle ‘gainst my face?
Will then, I win Her Majesty’s good grace?
But no! She leaves like all my loves,
Scattering remembrances like the remains
Of feathers from flying doves.
Something small to touch and mourn.
Between past and possible future I am torn.
I stare out the window from where she left.
I dare shout, the widow of her theft.
My marriage to a vow I was sure was mine…
Broken like a necklace—pearls before the swine.
Beauty grants me a kiss.
But only from Judas.