Conversational Fragment
First draft composed precisely one decade ago on 10/1/2015
“The ladies did change favours; and then we,
Following the signs, wooed but the sign of she.”
-Love’s Labour’s Lost, Act V, Scene II
“I’ll tell you what I don’t want:”
His response is choked and he is nearly choking
“I don’t want to be the catalyst again—
The means of ‘self-discovery’ for her
(Yet another broken-gorgeous girl)—
For her finding out that why she let me kiss her;
What she always needed from romance;
The real reason for her sensual surrenders
(She places those—all polished and precise—
Like silverware before me on the table,
Assaying my experience and manners:
‘Does he know that this fork is for oysters?
That one for dessert?
The smallest spoon, here,
After-dinner coffee?’);
All her body’s history; her pain;
That innermost unspoken emptiness
And ache to be fulfilled;
All the seething, intertwining things
That measure out her life, compose one self
To face this cruel and enticing world
We’re all thrust—unwilling and afraid—
Into the very teeth of… every thing
(She finds out somehow after and through me)
Was guiding her toward some way of escape
Or metamorphosis—for which
(She, quite earnestly, shall reassure me)
I have her permanent
(Regrettably, though, soon, now, distant)
Gratitude.”
Minor edits on 11/15/2025 to remove italicization from body of epigraph and add the closing quotation marks to the ultimate line
Thank you for reading The Brass Bull. There are several more poems scattered about on the glowing floor in here which are approaching completion, but precise timing on that is, as always, part of the vast array of unknowns which plague, taunt, and seduce us all.