To Write a Poem is a Mortal Sin
You hedonise yet killed your gamble
Coveting, lusting, groping for words.
You penetrate her deepest thoughts
Imprison her, criminal humanoid.
You steal her breath in the strokes of your pen
Your delirious limerick strangling her.
But your words in aching beauty
Gratify the body of your poetry.
Now you reached the climax in your robust stanza
The provocative lines steaming desire.
You hit upon another magnum opus
A mortal sin told in the poem of Oedipus.