Focal Point
FOCAL POINT
should we focus on his nude frame -
so muscular, so prominent,
private parts an extension of his serpentine scarf
or the ruddy lyre,
with its cheeky color,
plucked by rapturous fingers
or the unbridled wildlife,
pointed precariously
at pulses of vulnerability,
sensuous and sadistic
the pink flamingo,
ready to cobra-strike
at his curvy buttocks
the king of jungle lore,
ready to take his namesake,
to render him an eunuch
the wart-ridden crocodile
breathing on his achille’s tendon,
prepared to wrestle him to the ground,
as this god-like man’s potency slips away
remaining calm, his finger psalm
lingers. he waits for the danger to abate
perhaps this harp of hell, must continue
on and on, unrelenting
his suit of flesh, perfectly manicured,
never to touch another virgin
he bows, his self-erected shame
immortal, in pain
10/10/2017
Poems that paint a picture - 4
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