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At Whitechapel: Coterie
We were a threesome---painter, prince and whore.
Apart, each of us burdened by distress;
together, though, our lives seemed so much more
joyous, even complete. That studio
became our refuge, where friendship and trust
repaired the damages of rage and lust:
the ravages of mundane worldliness.
We closed the door upon that, when a night
found us together: vibrant conversation,
and sometimes tranquil silences, although
each of us knew the rising morning's light
must bring back fear, or farce, or aggravation.
But on that ghastly, horrifying day
their love and care helped me escape away.
