The most recent poem, Miss Intensity Takes A Lover, is not yet ripe enough for print. But to lay the groundwork for its appearance on this blog, I have recorded. Miss Intensity Walks In for your viewing, reading and listening pleasure. Please enjoy!
Miss Intensity Walks In
by Stephanie Mesler
Miss Intensity has you from hello.
She knows her shtick
and she knows you know she knows.
Silver curls fall freely
down a rigid back.
Red Lips grin broadly and
Laughter cascades over the room.
Miss Intensity will kiss you.
She will use her tongue
even when you are expecting just an air smooch.
She does not withdraw,
not her tongue,
not her thoughts,
not even her most deeply held designs.
Miss Intensity leaves no doubt.
She is incapable of obfuscation.
There was once a time when she tried to fabricate.
When that did not work, she attempted to equivocate.
She failed; now Miss Intensity is all about wide, wild openness.
Once, she loved a man who met her toe to toe and nose to nose.
He faced her down in disport and delight.
In debate, he was her consort and her complement.
Joie de feu in open battle created after-sparks felt round the world.
She called him Daniel, though he was really named just Dan.
She said no one deserved to be just Dan.
He submitted to the christening,
grateful his father (another just Dan) was not alive to know.
In the end, though, it was the name that broke them.
She ended the affair, declaring him too weak to be her mate.
He should have insisted, she said, on retaining his name.
So now you are one of the privileged,
chosen for her masterclass on poetry, love, and life at large.
She will name you too and you will submit.
Miss Intensity has never been wrong.
Well, maybe the once, but she won’t tell you just when.