The White Ship (46) Poem by David McLansky

(46) The Defense

“As a landless peasant, a laborer,
Who chanced upon your privy door,
I was speaking theoretically
Of not one man particularly.”

“A Banker Prince, a Merchant Lord
Marries whom he can afford;
Some rich blond to spend his gold,
Someone spoiled and dumb and cold.”

“I too shall marry within my station,
Some new freed slave from the plantation;
Some handsome hulk with great big arms
Who accepts as dowry all my charms.”

She stepped into the landing’s light,
A breathless beauty smiling bright;
Her blush undone, her pride restored,
“”Need I Ariadne’s thread to find the door? ”