Were I unclaimed, would you enslave me?
Would you bind this boy were he free?

Were I feral, would you cage me?
If just to own this willing thrall,
and taste each tear, and feed the craving
of one who burns to writhe under your thumb.

Or could you rule yet cherish me,
embody rod and flame with a loving heart?
Could you own, and break, yet make a boy
while shaping him to be a better man?

This feverish notion, this mortal folly,
could be an imperative
more binding than rope or steel.

If it should be, then it shall be
your will done, on earth
as it rules my fettered heart.


Love this poem? Here’s another you might enjoy.

7 thoughts on “Conditional

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