Precious Poppy
Poppy judges me up and down
and takes the smile I force upon her.
She shines back, with teeth decayed and brown,
from under her aluminum bed-sheets.
“We are better together”, she murmurs in my ear,
And I know what she means.
I am ready to re-join the army of flies.
My soul aches but it is my eyes,
that dance around her mesmerizing glow,
buzz.
Unique rivers of pleasure are quaking to flow.
She sits and smiles, precious poppy: “I will never let you go.”
I move towards her.
My trousers sag as the belt is lifted.
She is concentrating, fixed on the program, gifted,
I undress her. The body repulses me but still I go on,
It is the soul I care about. I am a man, torn.
Fulfilment crackles on the silver.
I ready myself, impatient, anxious for her,
and for a cerebral master class.
I could quit this and leave her anytime, fast.
She urges my hand towards the river of Vegas,
A deep sigh, then a smile and a comforting hiatus.
She drips with love and teases me to take the plunge
I lie back and she dances like a Degas.
I hold the brush steady,
Then stab it into the canvas.
Judge me if you want, I won’t care
I won't be able to
Precious Poppy!
Copyright © Chris Grundy | Year Posted 2012
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