Isn’t it?

by Mary Paulson

It’s inappropriate to
leave your door agape,
accessible to outsiders or
to like being liked
too much. It’s
irregular to enjoy the
slow scan of
strangers, ill–advised
to encourage longing
in a man because he is just
a man always
willing to try his
luck at your precipice.

It’s vulgar
to want to be painted
naked, directly
on your skin, indecent
to have him seated, watching
you metamorphosize, become
glittering, green–
tipped, a winged thing —
See, his dark pupil is glazed
and fixed, see how his
mouth comes alive.

It’s wrong to want
to be held
down or to crave
him bare, stripped,
in awe. The boy is after all, one
of the better parts of a man —
at such times, isn’t it
corrupt to feel like his

mother, hunger
to ruffle his hair,
pull him close, take him
by his hand, take
his breath, take
everything just because
you can.