My dutiful beautiful eyes
slept long and dreamed
they were blue as the skies,
yet morning broke it seemed
with my limbs tied in a tapestry
of a long and feted fantasy
where a pungent pink chameleon
dressed in a gaudy green sarong
singing his bawdy, greedy song
sung the raw rhythm of our lives,
of the wombs of his scarlet wives
who lie a-bed in a screeching din
in time and in tune with their sin.
We watch our own crucifixion,
our blood-red penetration,
impaled in rooms behind a bar
where other’s fantasies go far,
as far as their membership,
as they press and push and grip
in squelching and juddering jolts,
in a raping rhythm where time halts
on those grinding bed-springs of lust
with every lick and paid-for thrust.
Now my once dutiful beautiful eyes
struggle with hope yet want to find,
though tinted with blackened dyes,
solace from patriarchal carnal bind.
Malek Montag
Rochester, 2017
@malekmontag.wordpress.com
@Malek_Montag15 (twitter)
Picture Credit: http://2.bp.blogspot.com/ Oil paintings by Harding-Meyer
malekmontag 