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Heart, you bully, you punk.

 


yule
Would you call this a love poem? If yes, why? If no, how do you interpret it? I've been reading it over and over for weeks and I find new things in it each time, so I'm curious as to what others might see...


ONE IS ONE
Marie Ponsot

Heart, you bully, you punk, I'm wrecked, I'm shocked
stiff. You? you still try to rule the world—though
I've got you: identified, starving, locked
in a cage you will not leave alive no
matter how you hate it, pound its walls
& thrill its corridors with messages.

Brute. Spy. I trusted you. Now you reel & brawl
in your cell but I"m deaf to your rages,
your greed to go solo, your eloquent
threats of worse things you (knowing me) could do.
You scare me, bragging you're a double agent

since jailers are prisoners' prisoners too.
Think! Reform! Make us one. Join the rest of us,
and joy may come, and make its test of us.
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