PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Showered in the orange glow he stands;

only waiting while the neighbours sleep

because he knows they can’t understand 

that the girl loves the creep.

Her heels signal him, he’s alert,

ready to return to his home 

while she follows. She’s absurd - 

about to make her desires known.

Her sheltered eyes scan the dust;

the pages; the paintings; the maps; and 

settle on the bottled ship. A thrust

to the table, rocking over the hand

on the mantelpiece clock with 

the time of an older man. 

The neighbours could if  - 

Eyes watch the ship bump

up, down and across the ink.

Black scrolls on pages pump

words that should have been pink;

because they tickle him senseless.

His thoughts aren’t clean: guilty.

Sandy touches, sliding teeth, breathless

His performance of grinding anxiety. 

Sails from inside her storm

and into his less adorning seas, she’s

too close still, back and breasts warm.

Prickling their layers underneath

Cloaked on his sofa’s isolated shore

he recalls that he’s collided with the cliffs.

In spite, both will pleasure freely more

but the neighbours should if -