- Erotic Poetry
- Father
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My poor imitation of Sylvia Plath’s “Daddy”
Traitor in orange, all black and blue,
Led to the slaughter the way that he slew.
Face down in the dirt, skirt at my hips
Breath on my nape,
Us lucky few.
Head in my lap, wood of the pew,
Sticky kisses of someone who,
Like a hunter with a gun
Cock, aim and spew.
I do as the others do
Lipstick smears, a hellish hue
Tenderness for the way I blew,
Hair yanked forward,
Then back in lieu,
Sooty soul and seed of glue.
Preaching words you barely knew,
Angel wings you almost flew,
I am the testament
Which you drew,
Drink from the challis of this devil’s brew.
Jurors whisper without a clue
Where there’s one victim, there’s two.
They’ll fry you like a fish
For what’s right and true.
You sneer at me, and I spit back at you.
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