I dwell upon that amber skin, imagining the fire within—such fire such power, to draw me close and yet, and yet, I think of those whose lips you kissed then sent away, and how they must have felt that day when all their dreams went up in smoke, when all their love became the joke, the tale you told the girls at tea— will that be the tale you tell about me? Is pleasure just a thing to take like sweet meat from a tray? Then let us sup and take our fill. I’ll try not to complain
The poem does have a kind of “what’s the worst that can happen” feel to it, Adrião, as if the opportunity might not arise again so best take it now. The cautionary amber light is flashing at the intersection but the speaker chooses to drive through anyway.
Thank you for reading and commenting, Ron. Thanks for posting the link to the Millay poem. I wasn’t familiar with that particular poem, but I sense some similarity in the tone.
Thank you, @Maureen Doallas, for this restack
Thank you for restacking this, @Alison Redford
Thank you for restacking this poem, @Kathleen Hobbs
Your welcome Paul
Thank you for restacking this poem, @Kimberly Root
Thanks for this restack, @Portia
This poem has a great rhythm and sounds good. Reminds me a bit of early Eliot, pondering whether to act on his feelings of desire or not.
Is the amber light preparing his to stop or go? That's the question! Seems like he's going to settle for whatever is on offer.
Make hay while the sun shines, Martin . Thank you! 😊
Takes me places to times hands multiplied finger tick tock around the clock. Perhaps one more summer fling.
Maybe a reason to look forward to Summer that has not yet arrived, Richbee!
Amber is a yellow light. Caution. What will be will get here too soon. The clock ticks too fast. Even seeds planted germinate overnight.
This poem feels like someone wanting someone so badly that it scares them a little.
There’s heat in the opening lines, but underneath it you can feel the doubt already forming.
I felt that sting when he thinks about the lovers who came before — that fear of being just another name in a story.
The idea of someone turning past love into a joke hits hard because it’s such a real, quiet fear.
There’s something painfully human in wondering if you’ll be dismissed the same way.
The question about pleasure being something to “take” feels like someone trying to protect themselves while still leaning in.
The ending has this tired, almost resigned tone — like he knows he might get hurt but can’t walk away from the pull.
It’s desire mixed with self‑doubt, longing tangled with self‑defense.
You can feel him bracing for the worst even as he reaches out.
By the last line, it feels like someone whispering, “I’ll take what you give… even if it costs me.”
The poem does have a kind of “what’s the worst that can happen” feel to it, Adrião, as if the opportunity might not arise again so best take it now. The cautionary amber light is flashing at the intersection but the speaker chooses to drive through anyway.
Thank you for reading and commenting.
For some reason this one reminded me of a poem by Edna St. Vincent Millay.
https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/46557/what-lips-my-lips-have-kissed-and-where-and-why
Thank you for reading and commenting, Ron. Thanks for posting the link to the Millay poem. I wasn’t familiar with that particular poem, but I sense some similarity in the tone.
Such a heartbreaking story in this piece. I'm also surprised to see a rhyming poem from you. All in all, very well done as per usual Paul.
Thank you, Jordan—sometimes I get carried away!
I see it more as writing with incredible depth personally.
That was lovely to listen to, Paul.
Thank you, Alia.
Are we thinking of tanned beauties? No idea, but it sounded good to me! Thank you, Paul!
I won’t try to define it .. when thinking of desire I can’t.
Thanks to @KathieOC for sharing this poem.
Thank you for restacking this, @Patricia Andrews (WA)
Your poem carries the ache of desire shadowed by self-knowledge. Devastating and beautiful.