Let's workshop this poem about a naïve undergraduate student possessed by a savior complex strong enough to have him think chivalrous actions will transform the life and choices of a prostitute
Biola University
The virgin thought taking
the prostitute out to dinner
(lilies, door openings, ice cream)
would squall away
the poor-choice haze he imagined
led her to life as she knows it—
have her weeping in such thanks
that she would deny him
sex until the wedding night.
“We need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. A book must be the axe for the frozen sea within us.”—Kafka (against the safe-space cancel culture pushed by anti-art bullies, left and right)