Top of Arthur’s Seat
wind gusting fiercely;
tourists scattered talking softly
(voices captured and dispersed)
suddenly remembered
how much I wished you with me
to glory in the mountain
as it hung above the sea
and Edinburgh city
gray and gorgeous in the sunset,
would be brighter with you with me
sweating from the climb.
If you’d been on that bike
that took me up the mountain
much later, nearly midnight
(far more stars than in Chicago)
perhaps I really would have
had sex upon the mountain
open to the wind
and listening for the sea.
Guinevere, Lancelot
must have loved that mountain
and Arthur looking down
would surely have forgiven
love to match the sunset
and stars to match the city
bodies on the mountain
screaming in the wind.
*****
M.A. Mohanraj
February 7, 1994