'I Am Beset With A Dream Of Fair Woman'
I am beset with a dream of fair woman,
Lunatic for Venus flesh
So sweet in the night
I do not know if I have woven her,
Pygmalion, out of my desires
Or if indeed those hours she lay
Beside, under me.
Happy the hand that touches her,
The cloth that drapes her,
The eyes and words that catch hers.
Where she is the skies are
Clouded with loves, the minutes dove drawn.
I whimper in this waking sleep
Remembering as dogs run down past quarry,
Hunter and snared by my dreams of fair woman,
Lunatic for your Venus flesh.
Semi-Skilled Lover
Nothing like her ever came his way before
so he is a bit off his head. he welds
'I love you' under the bonnet of her car.
It is a passion so sharp it almost gelds
him. She doesn't know whether to laugh or cry.
Her children mock his boots wiped on her door mat.
Everything she has now fits, goes. His try
is to smooth her path, have all her needs off pat.
Yet he can never come at her, must fear to be
always the eager mongrel tolerated for
its willingness to please. Lopsided he
may clown to inratiate, not be shown the door
dreading always the shadow over her threshold
of some smart talking Times turner, A or B.
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