Fingers down, eyes to deal
– Annealed afresh the wounds of wanton sexuality –
I surged again,
Smoothing out a field of mammary bulk
To nestle in between
A dream – the cream of life –
At least for men
To come again within a grasp of firm
And luscious femininity
To grope, to hold
A hand of hope
In warmth
And yet
A clash between paternity
And pornographic drive
To satisfy again
O! the pulse of pain
Of why I am a man,
A ham of life
To slavery! –
I know you know my claim –
To offer up the same
Of me through these beloved genes
Oh yes, these bloody genes!
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011