Queer Delight

I see him walk across the street,
his collared shirt open just so.
His denim jeans cling to the heat
of earth and human vibrancy.

The joy of a man with an arse
like an upside-down love heart,
and plump as a Platonic peach...
His lips are red and beard jet-black.

I’d like to feast on him as if
I were some fat Medici queen
reclined in bed and entertained
by beasts of my own queer delight.