Waves breaking in darkness,
a crowd of shadows,
severe hand on my back,
pushing me down,
that’s what you want,
to be held down, to be forced,
of course it sounds ugly,
but that’s the difference
between the interior
and the limit of saying;
the mouth won’t make
what the spirit knows,
so say it roughly
or not at all: to be made
to receive, which I did,
gladly. My pleasure.
And the towering man
bent down and took my face
as if I had honored him,
in some fashion,
through my submission.
And in truth that was what
I liked best, the being acknowledged
—that was the difficult thing.