Belial my oaf warned me
she would not be
suitable for a poem
bedded and tongued
together too long.

She does not belong
to my ulcerous
subliminal.
She is natural.
She runs off
like rain water.
I could not put her
under the hard master
of an image
for my own need.

So since poetry
is more abstract,
more for its registrar,
give me her smile
and let us hug
and romp
in the plain life