On Openness
Don’t open it, he said – it’s just for show.
The lid stays closed, a novelty-type gift.
So many things mankind need never know,
apparently. I’m not allowed to lift
the lid. Stays closed, a novelty-type gift?
A pointless wedding present – what’s the use?
Apparently I’m not allowed to lift
or shake the box – its contents might come loose.
A pointless wedding present – what’s the use?
A nervous wreck, I was; afraid to touch
or shake the box. Its contents might come loose
there in my hands. Temptation is too much.
A nervous wreck? I was afraid to touch
the blasted thing. I held it at arm’s length,
there in my hands. Temptation is too much!
I swear, I fought the urge with all my strength.
The blasted thing! I held it at arm’s length.
It bothered me – each night, I’d hardly sleep.
I swear, I fought the urge with all my strength,
and what harm would it do? One tiny peep.
It bothered me each night. I’d hardly sleep;
I had to scratch that itch. Who’d ever guess,
and what harm would it do, one tiny peep?
If push should come to shove, I’d just confess.
I had to scratch that itch. Who’d ever guess
my fingers trembled, fiddling with those locks?
If push should come to shove, I’d just confess,
I told myself – it’s just a poxy box.
My fingers trembled, fiddling with those locks.
As Zeus’s words came back, I eased the lid.
I told myself it’s just a poxy box –
who’d ever hear what I, Pandora, did?
As Zeus’s words came back, I eased the lid.
Don’t open it, he said – it’s just for show.
Who’d ever hear what I, Pandora, did?
So many things mankind need never know.
Commended, Winchester Poetry Prize, 2016
© Sarah Doyle