Love

If I could bed the wench, would she not want to wed and wrench my will to love the lovely flower that is so only to fade into the night as fashions flow and fancy takes flight?

The sky is leaden II

I came too soon last night saw her arched back
Breaking through moaning sheets, her womb probing
No sleep I thought now how thin her back was!

And do I dare?
Do I dare to stir up my strength and force a crisis?

There’s food on the stove, half-open, half-uncooked
Signs of castrated animal husbandry!
And sighs then, and I do not care anymore
But the worm still moans on I cannot sleep.