My Hero Bares His Nerves by Dylan Thomas

My Hero Bares His Nerves

My hero bares his nerves along my wrist

 That rules from wrist to shoulder,

 Unpacks the head that, like a sleepy ghost,

 Leans on my mortal ruler,

 The proud spine spurning turn and twist.

 And these poor nerves so wired to the skull

 Ache on the lovelorn paper

 I hug to love with my unruly scrawl

 That utters all love hunger

 And tells the page the empty ill.

 My hero bares my side and sees his heart

 Tread, like a naked Venus,

 The beach of flesh, and wind her bloodred plait;

 Stripping my loin of promise,

 He promises a secret heat.

 He holds the wire from the box of nerves

 Praising the mortal error

 Of birth and death, the two sad knaves of thieves,

 And the hunger’s emperor;

 He pulls the chain, the cistern moves.