The Morning After


Confounded by the cat the saucers have been hoodwinked.
As if just to prove it the lumps are lying around.
The trammels of last night's meat lust
descend on quivering jellies as the kitchen sobers up
after a one night stand with the fridge.
Over tea and toast they are named.

Love has not come stalking through the starry knickerless night!
Spent semen of the spilled milk on a table
looking none too happy at being sat on
by a yellow-skirted fricative sun. Youth's joie de vivre
is stuck in the marmalade of an awkward morning.
Their only thing in common is waking up together.

Were his perfect hamstrings worth it?
Or her bierwurst pink areolae?
O silver backed ache of the cutlery!
When desire's hot fork pricked them in the night
young wet-mouthed lust proved the strongest.
What's this cat's tongue licking at their souls?
                                             O Rough! Rough! Rough!