The Burning of Mr Temple

Poetry

Spark-ling eyes, tender-cheeked free
Inebriate, base, elemental creature, but how tender,
Even feminine as it charms, voice somehow
Soothing in the blanket adoring conversation.
And vibrating wine drowned to the eyeline
Coke-mugged, shamed Temple goes
Friend in hand home, where the dripping
And licking and moist whispers
Penetrate his mind’s ear howling
Bouncing bed, books and blood
In the heroic past midnight.

Those super-human greats, those gentle
Words, kind gestures:
So dandied, proud and unafraid,
Thinking of her he takes him in
For little words and warmth,
Miasmic pleasantries that trip off
Tongues lolling beneath
Reassuring in the soberless sweats.
But bed arises and

The angel-daemon stripping erect
Languished in love in smooth sheets
Alluring smiles, scorching in the summer
Dark. Temple falling closer to his lips,
The beauty in her eyes, the curves of his
Face, her handsome beauty and willing.
He asks, like a gentleman. It smiles lips
Touch and tongues squeezing, the
Elemental covering and feeling and
Our dear Temple is locked in the flames.

And they lie there, that elemental baby
Head safe on his breast, fingers
Stroking unruly a bellybutton, erstwhile
Flames now a little cooled and tender
Licking skin on skin, nuzzling wet nose
Until the sun appears, and the light goes out.

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