I could fuck myself with a smooth-cut stone,
Plug my fingers inside some bubbling spring
To swallow earth’s squirts or make mountains spew,
So greedy my hands now, for you– and you.
Plug my fingers inside some bubbling spring
To swallow earth’s squirts or make mountains spew,
So greedy my hands now, for you– and you.
With polite purpose I entered the game,
Acknowledged set bounds were all for the best.
I let myself out when the fucking’s through:
Merry chirpers above, I wing off, blue.
Light-hearted was I, your gold-breasted toy.
Your senses to serve was a precious treat;
Bliss, games with such a pretty pair to play:
But sweet nights sour when love wakes not the day.
Hard hours we’ve wriggled in that wedded bed
But just two will fit the ensanctioned bounds.
Though my heart ill-flutters, I’ve still got wit
Enough to know, your nest this bird must quit.
Though soul longs to mingle with loving souls
When senses mix fearless in kisses, sex–
Sweet loves, my mates, I must renounce my prize,
Your garden: three can’t keep in Paradise.
