To which that stroked tunes
Of harping and flutes
Repose agitative captive of
Flat fall.
Love’s unleashed voracity
Of mad-dogs sneering at
Sounds of snorting bells
Churning out hypnotic
Spells it tore the
Epithelium into
Putrefying sores and
Putrescent laughter
Rattled the bone
And the bone battled
To free from stranglehold
The outward appearance
Refractive index of
Gold dust. Stampede
Dances from abstinacy
Of buffaloes
Love’s bubble-burst into
Her pavilion tent
My hands cannot caress
Her bosom though I feel
Itching like Venus
Till l say I do, I do!