Honour & Virtue

Poetry is for wooing women.

Dead Poets Society

“Why did you do that?” A muse’s virtue tries motive and possibility both, finds doorways to the heart. Here’s soup; a loaf. Do you see it yet? Or are you still à côté des pompes? It wouldn’t hurt you to finish this. Passive moods: a late chill is kept off by the fire. I ask different questions from yours. Love isn’t what you feel for one who shows you loveable; no, it steals past your gate, picks locks, pulls down your barri- cades. “Poetry is for wooing women.” Love breaks down the door. Fractured crystals carry firelight to my hands. Chaleureux, I fuse these moments into offerings to the muse.