From Edmond Rostand’s Cyrano de Bergerac (1990, use only by permission)
I bare my head from crown to nape
And slowly, leisurely reveal
The fighting trim beneath my cape
Then finally I strip my steel.
A thoroughbred from head to heal
Disdainful of the rein or bit,
Tonight I draw a lyric wheel
But, when the poem ends, I hit
Come be burst, you purple grape
Spurt out the juice beneath your peel
Jibber and show you rib boned ape
The fat your folderols conceal
Let’s ring your bells – a pretty peal
Is that a fly? I’ll see to it.
Ah, soon you’ll feel your blood congeal
For when the poem ends, I hit.
I need a rhyme to hold the shape
Gape, fish I’m going to wind the reel.
My rod is lusting for its rape
This sharp tooth slavers for its meal
There, let it strike. Ah, did you feel the bite?
The vultures sit until the closing of the deal.
The poem ends, and then I hit.
Prince, drop your weapon. Humbly kneel,
Seek grace from God in requisite
The poem ended – and I hit.