- Non-Erotic Poetry
- The Dress Shirt
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My light blue buttons lay in perfect place.
My collar, white and starched, is extra tame.
No wrinkles, except the ones in his face,
And cuffs, white, stiff, that put her dress to shame.
O Gods! She has ripped my heart apart,
My blue buttons rolling all on the floor.
She kissed me; her lips were salty, tart,
And then she threw me at the cold, hard door.
I am weak, broken, as my master leaves.
Ugly, fat wrinkles slowly creeping in.
My collar slowly slides, breathe in heaves.
I'm left to die as they commit their sin.
If this is the end, this death I commit.
My love, my master, made my life forfeit.
