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[Page 148]

The Jealous Lover

I would take your little throat in my hands
Slight to snap as a flower stem
But I could not kill the light in your eyes
It would still be found in the morning skies
A valley pool or a turquoise gem

I could hush your voice with my finger's press
Leave you a broken silent thing
But the lilt of the bird in the green scrub heart
The sough of the wind and your tones would start
And your words in the soft rain sing

I could tear you out of my soul to day
Learn to hate & curse you too
Give my heart to the surgeon's knife
But what were the use of a shattered life
Bleeding to death for need of you

S Young

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