Constance Came

Constance Came

Copyright © September 3, 2016 by Douglas W. Jerving.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author, except as provided by USA copyright law.

It was just a passionate moment
And that was all it might have been
After so long, so many, so nights
As many long nights go.

                                “I, Oh!”
“Oh, I” was his reply, “to offer more.”

Constance raged and came for him;
Long continence gave up her see.
She should have seen her sheen betrayed;
Wet sheets of love and lust arrayed
Against the prurient casters’ spell
In that luxuriant summer grass
According hers and John’s a depth
Suborning sheol, grave, and hell;
Even to adjourn eternity.

She could not see, eyes blinded by
The passion of her love and fear
That passion might be all her love alone;
Though John’s, the fear of night,
And fear of losing the only one he loved,
Assayed the darkness they enclosed
Before the Great White Throne
Losing their virginity to each other.

“Do you believe that God exists?”
She asked as if existence was outside
And somehow inconsequent
Herself and him in that nakedness.
She parlayed their place in bed.

“Well if he does than this contains
The very essence of His name.”
It was the only answer he could give
To satisfy and sanctify their deed
Since love was still the reason
As far as he could tell.

                                 “So you
Have used me of the love of God,
And I you just to grate my soul;
To sanctify my itch.”

                             “The whole
Of life is nothing more than that.
We scratch and hope and lucky
Someday find one just like we,
Together coming to a better place.”

“I need what is best not better.
My mamma had the best for less
And all my sisters had the lesser
For their lust.”

                    “My brothers”
He said, “all have eaten dust.
But you and I have seen each other’s eyes.”

He pulled her close to him like a child
Pulls round the grass in a summer field
To cover himself a warm summer day.
His arm reached backward, and then forth
From the shadow of a pocket in that grass.

He put on her the ring.
Me Lady. I love you eternally.
Constance, if God exists, marry me.”

Constance came into his arms that day.


Doug Jerving is the publisher of the You may contact him at


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