Coursing Length
With nerves of gold prepared by pent up heat
He waits, with nerves of gold beneath that skin
That lengthens most, he feels the heart-pulsed beat.
With highest purity of carat sin
He waits, has waited far too long. The wait
Is like alembics with a blood-filled pipe
And glass for purifying manly weight
In gold. He does not know that hormone hype
Is hitting organs — most that swollen one
That slips as precious gold should feel the most.
He knows with certainty it wants to stun
Himself and more to stun it slickest host.
A luscious metal makes him think a throne
Would envy him because of this veined groan.
~ Phillip Whidden
by phillipw | Aug 8, 2024 | Uncategorized |