an old man upstairs has fits of coughing

women make his bed creak fit to bust

he's some sort of evangelical preacher

an expert on the perils of human lust

bones in bright sunshine or pouring rain

pressed down by limbs that rarely speak

contorted versions of my wide-open legs

I could make his bed wake up and creak

do my vows still apply after these years?

did I ...

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thorn rose in quicksand

a pale siren lost at sea

gurgling a hymn, that's

what she means to me

she's saying little of late

quieter now than of yore

time's calmed her down

once I called her a whore

came home at all hours

partied till she dropped

spent money like water

manic how she shopped

once a nymphomaniac

in bed she wore me out

I was not t...

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