Enjambed

It's all technique you see, to thrust one line
deep into the next, which willingly accepts it.
Perhaps the rhythm's rough, or might the ryhme
be cleaner, or the grammar less obtuse,
yet who could doubt the unexpected swerve
from perfect regularity of meter--
the twist, the touch, the sudden pause--they serve
to make the whole experience much sweeter.
No poet true would tolerate the pounding
of coarse spondees or dullard's deadly iambs
when doggerels of sex and love are sounding
their hot deep moans of bodies so enjambed.
With broken sonnets I will sing to praise
Imperfect love, delight of all our days.