In Monotone Poem by Patti Masterman

I see that he has commented upon every author
Whose prose wears a seductive face, drawing him in;
Nakedness, embracing, and a theory of moonlight
Conspiring to fasten lovers together as one
There is no physicality left to the invention of his daily life
That one element has been subtracted, without a quorum
And so he searches throughout the long, touchless days
Hoping for a fragment of release; just the hint of a caress
In the monotonicity of others words, and their opaque worlds
Everywhere I go, it seems he has already been there before me
Stealthily pawing, dissecting the glint from the lover's eye,
Squeezing the nectar from out the gullible peach:
Removing the climax itself, with a single click of his hole-punch
The sense of his need is oppressive; it weights me down,
Reaches into my various night time excursions, a queer dissatisfaction
The inverted diagram, of a number of flailing arms and legs
Above which a single eye always predates, watching,
Straining ever, to catch the money shot.