Dirty Dylan Thomas

We loved the long dark nights
Stiff peckers under tent pole sheets
Rubbed sore until we spilt into old crusty socks
Dreaming of princesses on palomino palfreys
Bending down to us who stand hat in hand
In the dusty chicken-loud marketplace
Melon blooming bosoms bulging from soft cloth
A quick whisper:
“Meet me at midnight at the top of Rooks tower
I’ll poison the dogs and drop a rope”
Dripping wet from the swum moat we climb
Up up and slide through the narrow gun slit
Into lace laden magnolia scented arms
And kisses light and deep as dreams.
“In your mouth, did you say milady?
Oh, no I couldn’t.” “Oh, but you must.”
Straining we drifted away in soft hot hands.

To find ourselves becalmed on the South Sea
Under the greasy guns of a fine pirate ship
Saucy flaps the Jolly Roger
As we march manacled across the plank
And kneel before the angry pirate queen
Who snaps and snarls her tarantella skirts
Revealing thighs as hard and saucy as dolphin's backs
Placing a Spanish boot before us to be licked
Demanding we join the crew that winks and leers behind her
Then at sea rocking midnight to the dark fish funk brig
She comes hot, naked and angry
Pushing her loose and dripping quim
Against our bruised and battered lips
Filling our mouths with sweet fury.

Perhaps we wander down the long sea cliff lane
To Maud the Doula’s mystery cottage
Chalk-white in the new moonlight
What will we find if she lets us in behind her hard oak door?
Town women say she’s a witch
Stealing their lying husbands for a night
Men found limp on the doorstep in cock-crowed morning
Pizzles red and sucked dry as a goat’s teat
But the women go to Maud too
To ease their labors and minx their bored men again
With potions and herb salads of purslane and foxglove
On some nights the cottage cries with female moans
And the moon seems to shake in the sky

Or out along the moor road through heather swept heath
We dream
Seeking the elusive red-tressed daughter
Of John the Crofter, no one knows her name
Drifts she does into the village unexpected
To buy one loaf of rye and a flagon of rum
Her mouth is like a bruised rose
Eyes dark as distant planets
Her long cloak drifts around her
But we can see the sweet curves through it and wonder
If one moonless night we could meet
By the noisy elf-banked fairy-dancing stream
And there be transported into the milky way
Sliding along her ivory limbs
Captive in a kiss as sweet as new raspberries.

But these are only our dreams
In life we drift by the grey wave-slapping seaside
Hid in the grass tassled spy snooping dunes
Peeking at city girls down for the day with their brother brats
Wading knee-deep in the thigh beguiling waves
Squealing with sisters when the big one bumps them
And we pray in the sandy church for sudden breakers
To bowl them over, so they will rise mermaid seaweed soaked
Hair in steams across their faces
And sudden surprised nipples perky and revealed
Beneath now transparent pinafores

In our aged youth we find the laughing willing girls
Not models, but buxom-busty with freckles
Cheeks cheeky and plump as pudding
Arses that waggle like duck tails under their flirting skirts
And we meet Molly or Mary Jane behind the bold red barn
Hidden in the swift falling fragrant hay of an afternoon
And soon after some pink nub rubbing and nuzzling
We slip their knickers and see the flash of cream
And at the center, in the curly bird’s nest
That sea-scented sweet gleaming cockle shell
Then it’s upsy daisy, feet to the sky and buttocks dancing
As Peter jumps in all willy nilly and seconds later
Spills the seed.
Sweet to lie in the hay-smelling skin soft evening
Thinking day is done.

These giggling girls take the sweet and sassy moment
And soon make bawling bairns
And call us hither and name us daddy
And we are soon tied to the day dark mine or the stormy fleet
And return in our dreams only
To actresses and princesses and mystery maids born of our hunger
And the creatures of the deep sea.