deepundergroundpoetry.com
beautiful (are the bad)
Sensual. Loving. Unutterable. Temptress.
if I call them sluts, will they object?
when I come to this place, I could call it Perfidia;
I could call it Isla Mujeres.
I come without intrigue, seeking the allure of the women
who read me, because I crave the beautiful, & the bad.
if I haven’t seen them unclothed, I imagine them that way.
& you can tell I have an austere imagination by the
carnal confessions that I write:
my imagination is a bordello on the wrong side of town.
the paper is laid out like a naked whore
waiting to be abused,
& my pen is erect…
we’ll play a little blues on the old Victrola, sultry as a
southern breeze on a hot night. let the moonlight spill
on your beauty, & your rebel song.
if you weep, I will touch your tears,
I will taste each one on my fingers.
I’ll hold you closer than a slow dance,
& I’ll know you’re dangerous when you say
‘you don’t give a girl a chance!’…
(Art: Peter Martin)
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