Disaster More Likely than Not
A loved one with catastrophe inside
His hair made up of crow-like black of curls,
Disaster in the shine of eyes a bride
Would die for, semen like the off-white pearls
That naughty gods might drip when they forsake
The ones that they have raped caused disarray
Around him, caused each partner to mistake
His soul. Perhaps they heard his silent neigh
As he sought other love in other fields.
Perhaps his victims heard the sound
Inside their guts as he sprayed other yields
In trying to bamboozle them, astound.
His face surrounded by that blackest hair
Shone beautiful as Lucifer’s first prayer.
~ Phillip Whidden