Rebecca always hated me
I know, because she said:
And if I passing, spoke to her
I might as well be dead

For all the interest she would show.
But I would always try:
And she might glance up from her book
Or not, as I went by.

But then, one day, she spoke to me
And asked me if I had
A copy of Persuasion
She could borrow for a tad

I said I did, and brought it on
The very next of days;
Rebecca took it with a glance
That turned into a gaze

“You like me, Owen, don’t you?”
I did not know what to say —
“Well, don’t. Because I don’t like you,”
And so I went away

But lo, the years have gone
And I now see what I mistook –
If you’re out there —

Can I have
My fricking book?

Sensual and Sensibility

Another in a (not long enough) line of Jane Austen appreciation poems.

I find Jane Austen sensual
But it’s hard to say why:
For by our current standards
She is modest, even dry

But what she does is show for those
Who take the time to read her
It is the longing to connect
That makes connection sweeter