There’s Lucky and There’s Lucky
A girl with eyes involved with awe, and stroll
Of goddesses, and heart that angels knew
Who sang with Gabriel, would have a soul
To offer to a poet. She might view
Him as a blond and blue-eyed rhyming knight
Descended from medieval realms where love
Was chivalry, descended from that height,
Descended like the Holy Spirit dove
Including man’s and poet’s tongue of fire
Upon her breasts, brown nipples, and her lips.
He turned to holiness the hot desire
That raised her banging heart and heaving hips.
He rammed in something rawer than his verse
And left her holding inner glow and curse.
~ Phillip Whidden