Still Life with Rumpled Flesh

Scatterlings of Erin and Albion
You were my baby, Babylon.
I was a still life, death warmed over,
You the moist and quiet lover.
Caught ‘tween Priapus and a soul so grey
‘Tween cloister quiet and the loud café
‘Tween milky pablum and red, red wine
‘Tween mahogany sheen and clear white pine.

You take your tonic with a little gin.
Like your fun with a little sin.
Cool grey eyes but that smile so nice.
I’m still sipping my rye with ice
Better bring me a helping fresh
Of that warm and gently rumpled flesh.