Seven Ways of Answering the Unasked

26 December 2020 Saturday Poetry Prompt: sigillaria

1.
She told me the answer
to any question I had
for her
would be yes,

and with seed planted,
roots pushed through soil
trunk thickened, yielding
branches and leaves

bearing fruit that withered
rotting in place, awaiting
cross-pollination
that would never come

for I balked at asking
what we both knew we wanted.

2.
I mean,
any question,
request, or suggestion,

however lurid

and it’s not like she
whispered it in my ear;

she just recklessly
blurted it out
for all to hear.

I didn’t take the bait,
suppressing a chuckle at
the prospect of making her
hop on one foot

and bark like a dog
like Prince Akeem did
in that comedy film
to his queen-never-to-be.

I knew then that we
would never be.

Not that I disapproved,
but when encouraged to move
I become rooted,

processing in old-oak time
never knowing how to be.

3.
Imagine me asking
precisely
what I want from a goddess,

especially when
she’s everywhere and nowhere

eye-humping my moves
in real-time,
setting celestial tables
on a cosmic scale

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