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Poem

Defining chromium weep and cold-steel whine, 
This endless tragedy that is love, 
Tripping a corsage of candy entrails and dust-cake,
Streamers across the floors of emotional residency.

So she reposes, pretty with poise, her porcelain chin
Resting on the backs of china hands in style,
All cocked head and upturned eyes, the fluttering lashes,
Cool, ravening scorn flicked upon such as my dreams.

When I kissed the supple nipple of her breast
Above her heart that seemed to beat sincerity,
Erective tissue responded post haste
And I tasted the fabled arousal.

Yet her heart below the skin was cold and still,
A mandible of ashes tapped the rib in time,
So false significance of a heart beating for me
Was no more than her survival instinct.

Love, a chemical reaction, a sugar burst,
Knee jerk feedback of the masculine cock and balls,
What more ugly travesty slavers seed and blood
Across the flesh of all humanity’s women?

And yet, how can it be there is no feeling
More classically heroic, messianic and divine,
More radiant with the power of forever and the stars
That I cannot bear to see it go…?

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