I ride to the sound of thunder & the glory of battle
I wear your kiss in a pendant around my neck
and make my way through the dark night
by the light of your eyes.
 
give your service & your sex to a man who works
in a bank, who is stable & well groomed
make him a home & cook his meals.
 
I will keep a record of the adventures that seduce me
the men that I kill & the women who weep for them
my suffering will become scandalous poems
and the remembrance of your comforting embrace
will soothe my fever.
 
my missives will come to you by pony express
you must keep them in a hidden place
read them by candlelight when the house is quiet
and shield them from your tears, as you curse
the goddess who bequeathed your heart to a wandering poet.
 
I do not request of the angels to lighten my burden
nor to rest me in the bed of your deepness & fire
because they hear not the prayers of the wicked.
 
carve upon my gravestone, this epitaph:
 
that I loved you
 
that you loved me once