POEM: The marriage of opposites?
Let me not to the marriage of true minds–
“Oh, not that old thing again!” Paneris
snatches the book out of my hands
and throws it away. “And what’s this?
A cup? A ritual dagger?” They pick up
knife, cup, plate, wand, book, a stray kitten
and juggle the lot like Crowley’s Magician.
“The blade is to the serpent as the cup is
to the fox?” “–Paneris, stop being an asshole.”
Paneros folds eir arms. “You love my asshole,”
and Paneris fires the book, wand, plate, cup,
and knife at their lover, who catches them one
by one and puts them back on the altar, or
table, or a coffin where someone is about
to get sawn in two, possibly your humble
poet. The kitten stays with Paneris,
draped about their neck. “Do genitals matter?”
Paneros hands me a pen, a knife. “Where
does sex take place?” And a smartphone,
and a pillow. “Who gets to define gender?”
A cup of tea and a cookie.”What does it mean
to live happily ever after?” “Oh, don’t be pedantic,”
says Paneris, winding their arms and legs around
their lover. “It’s the eighteenth. Give me a kiss.”
“I’ll give you more than that–” The kitten lands
on its feet and I come out of the coffin in one piece.