Unasked

Who asked you? What is that you're carrying,
Wrapped up in bandages? Why did you flee
When cops came to your door? Do you agree
That blackbirds shouldn't be allowed to sing?
Have you been cleaning your engagement ring?
Where were you last night? On the wine-dark sea,
Or in a clinch with sure calamity?
When did disaster become a good thing?

How is it we avoided cheap regret?
Did we pretend our falsehoods were all true?
Was our exposed love sold for endless rue,
Or was there something better? I forget,
The fingers scorched by last night's cigarette
Crooked silently, as you asked, "Who asked you?"

Twelfth Thoughts

What if Viola really was a boy,
In service to Orsino? Would he then
Say, "I do love this one in my employ,"
Or is romantic love denied to men?
Won't someone love Sir Andrew Aguecheek?
What of our enemy Malvolio,
All yellow, daring all? And who will speak
For hunters of the hart, like Curio?
I fear Sebastian is an empty suit,
The ring under a half-drunk glass of beer.
Somebody once suggested, "By their fruit
You will know them." We know so little here.
But as I warned Countess Olivia,
"Love conquers all. The rest is trivia."