Magic by Lemuel Johnson

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Othello: Come, Desdemona. I have but an hour…

The quick straddle will do.

for now.

nakedness itself is not the point; remember

this that she hath eyes, and she chose me.

they will have me loaded

otherwise, with injury and exclusion

in Venice; they will have me dead

on time for this their cousin and daughter

this my wife, look to your wife Iago says

and whispers wear your eyes well to do so.

I know he bends low, beyond all

consideration of boundary and home.

here, then, where we most live,

the two of us,

I pull myself in to the very tailbone,

attached as we are to the poisonous

fondness of kinship and fools.

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