my words of love grow more tenuous than the sound of lilac Poem by Antjie Krog

my words of love grow more tenuous than the sound of lilac
my language frayed
dazed and softened I feel myself through your stubborn struggle

you still hold me close like no-one else
you still choose my side like no-one else
against your chest I lie and I confess
you hunt my every gesture
you catch up with me everywhere
you pull me down between bush and grass
on the footpath you turn me around
so that I must look you in the eye
you kick me in the testicles
you shake me by the skin of my neck
you hold me, prick in the back, on the straight and narrow