A Dutch Blessing

Stand under the trees
behind the Art Gallery
watch the fountain of
tourists go buy
beauty from the giftshop
wisdom from the palm-reader
sitting on the steps watching
wishes in the water

Kneel beneath the archway
In the shadows of my longing
Trace the edge of my hem
as I walk by
Pull the hanging thread
Use it to sew my absolution
to the cuff of my sleeve to
hide the blood

Let us slip past
the informalities of bodies
isolation cells owned
by the rules of your behaviour
binding my sex
with silver chains held
by the myriad sects of
your order

Say a prayer for me
under pink blossoms
beneath grey skies


Rule-lined papers
edicts for where I can
take his dictation
how often
the meaning of the movements
of his mouth biting
his tongue
instead of my lip

that always gets me into trouble
with you

Show me his need
I’ll lend him my regret
we’ll sit in silence
we won’t touch
until you tell me
there’ll be nothing left
to tell

So Eat your food
without salt
and Let me
not in his arms
but at his side
never alone
or beneath him
and I won’t hold
his hand
until the bell rings and
darkness hides
the indecency of it

Hands made for sewing
and typing and pressing
cleaning cups and washing
grey panties that lead
a life unexamined

– Sasha Cullen


  1. Thank you for sharing, it is very beautiful. A breath of contained passion. Can blood boil in our veins for a look or a stare? Maybe just few words. It must be so.

Leave a Comment