HORSE F COURSE

Sweet, sweet, Aphrodite
with your waving sultry hair,
don’t you think that this trick might be
a bit cruel? A bit unfair?

You seem the dove that listens sweetly,
as I cast you out to see,
and you so gracefully, so meekly
bring an olive branch to me,

but I see no land, fair goddess.
No, just water greets my eyes.
I wait again for your return,
knowing full well how swift you fly.

Oh, sweet dove who can’t be tamed,
lovely bird who’s thrilled me so,
although you’re never called from name,
perhaps I thought that I could show,

some goddess-swaying praise-affection,
some relentless, raw devotion,
which might spin you my direction,
which might soften your emotion.

I should know better.
Tassle-gentle you are not.
And when your trickery’s in apples,
I should know I’ll end distraught.