Vinegar Poem by Peter Black

What is this, this love it stinks
Of a long forgotten nether region
Which now bears the salty brunt,
Smelling of redundant seas.

O, Lord, I see
The heart shaped pulse
Beneath her burning breast
Which so longing tempts me.

What a foul feminine reek
That lets me waft so tender—
On the bellow of her breath
Before our two lips meet.

But far more sour it is,
When the minutes end
With me alone upon the bed...
Having been for many months.