A Raunchy Affair with a Married Man

ali shaw

-A Raunchy Affair with a Married Man-

Lips sore from The Great Outdoors and eyes raw
from trawling through books
that etched out my eyes and taught me of naught,
I toppled under the shower's thin drool and sat
prone for an hour or two, as the water scoured my wounds.

Time tarnished, squandering past until, suddenly,
a private Damascus occurred and I
beheld on a shelf high above me,
a shower gel I'd never seen before.

I scrabbled up like lepers at saint's sandals
and viewed it proud there, neighbouring my usual pot
of dark blue gel.
White bottle,
beacon of sensuality.
I slip my fingers round your contours,
your yellow cap, your halo
I bit by bit unclip your lid and take long sniffs
of gripping odour like the
very heart of Mother Earth, beating.

Shaking, I smear the froth-creating suds
across my flesh. Washed and shining,
nothing can curb the sweet prospective forming
in every cleansed step. The world's a sudden, boundless place.

As I frisked my body fresh
my hoary white towel and the phone,
rattling frantic, I picked up, quick.
Your dog
is dead,
my mum said.
I didn't even bat an eyelid, just kept on dancing
all alone in a room.