This is actually an extended metaphor about political philosophy. Really.
For John
They say you must know human weakness,
a hand raised without quite finding its grasp.
'All I see is Paris';
how helpless it sounded, how mythical.
The masochism of that loss,
its not quite willed, perfected captivity.
It is an easy lie, that supplication:
it can always be helped,
is always a kind of fabrication,
a choice to be burnt up.
It cauterizes, in its way,
seals shut in each others arms
where all that can be made
is from the touch of lips on lips.
How very blind.
This is what it loses:
Imperfection, the crooked slant
that makes the straight edge true.
They say you must know human weakness,
a hand raised without quite finding its grasp.
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