The Beat of Her Drum, a poem by Roe

The beat, beat of her drum Coming for me from deep within the forest of my mind Beats like footsteps coming nearer My heart pounding in my ears. Perhaps she will turn away, Her steps receding into the distant business of life But what if she turned this way Noticing me as I hide underneath my fear. What if she saw me And I her. The flow of light intense between us Would I burst into flames At being seen? Would she be singed, or Perhaps, utterly immune to tales of my heart. Or would she too Simmer, smoke, and catch fire herself Her innards removed and lay bare on the table Sampled in tiny morsels by my curiosity Or devoured by my imperfections in seeing her soft skin exposed? What would I find in the folds of her brain Or the softness of her inner thighs Would I become obsessed or even deranged By flesh and thoughts so foreign Or would her meat be but ordinary And forgotten after the licking of the fingers. And yet, it is probably nothing, Not the beating of hearts or even the pattering of feet But merely the fantasies of my mind Seeing life in the corporal realm of existence Where mortals flounder in the living and dying Seeking to be essential and noticed In our songs, sung on stages Neith the arch of our lives From nothing to nothing And but a flash in between. Roe Sept 2022