Down to Earth

The first one to warn me off you was yourself,
In the crude vernacular of everyday witticisms.
The advice was repeated time and time again
By tongues as varied as the heads that held them.
Your body gave the explanation
Of the warnings scribbled on the screen.
The aesthetic line of your shoulders
Was marred by brutalizing anger,
And violence clung to your hands in clouds
Of metallic thunder.
It was almost too much,
The elegance of your form savagely broken
By your own inelegant emotion.
Impossible to watch the bright arc of destruction
Impossible to look away.

September 97

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