My readers must be thinking by all the poems about love’s fixations, problems, joys, and et cetera that one should perhaps after all give it a miss. Naw, I think it’s probably still worth it. But this is possibly one of the more unusual statements of a common problem; that is, when the lover seems divided in his responses. As most often occurs, a somewhat humorous solution is the one that comes most easily to mind for me.
Twins When I see you divided from yourself And have to wonder which it is I love, The neat man, or the man who moves my heart, Manipulator, or the sad-eyed dove, Then I begin to wonder "Who am I?" "Shall I divide myself likewise in twain? Love both, or choose one, and pursue the goal Of gaining all his heart, his mind in train?" Then think I that it must be you have cause To look opposed thus to yourself and praise The objectivity you say you have; Perplexity, though, runs throughout my days. I wonder, could it be you have a twin, Or bear a double soul in one, like mine? For I too have my moments of divide When I with half myself do fret and pine. So let's have forth the man with eyes of dolor Who yet knows how to merry-make sometimes, And I will love him; if th'other appear We'll wind up all his stratagems in rhymes. ©Victoria Leigh Bennett, 2/13/17