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MARRIED MAN BLUES
My hands like hunger
And your flesh the feast;
To continually commence,
To never cease,
To yield my child
To the consuming beast.
Like water your mouth;
Oh, my arid tongue.
All the oldest secrets of love
We will whisper young;
And passion’s songs:
Every verse will be sung.
The sun will arise
As at last you sleep;
And again the world will awake,
Its rules to keep;
And I to obey
From this sweet room will creep.
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Comment by: Scrissy - 2008-10-10 10:25
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This is so very, very good ..... delicious, with a perfect (at least for the reader!) ending. Hope it doesn't step on any creative toes, but I am a real stickler for punctuation, cutting out words that get in the way of striking images or the rhythm. I've taken the liberty of messing with it a bit; hope you like:
My hands, the hunger;
your flesh the feast
to continually commence,
to never cease,
to yield my child
to the consuming beast.
Like water your mouth;
oh, my arid tongue!
The oldest secrets of love
we will whisper young,
and passion’s songs?
Each verse will be sung.
The sun will arise
as at last you sleep;
again the world will wake,
its rules to keep.
I, to obey,
from this sweet room will creep. |
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