For Decades Afterward the Civil Servant Moaned, but Then in Later Decades We are All but Clueless
Eddie Marsh, standing
How stripped we are of details, skinned by time
Of facts long lost. We do not know what Will
Looked like while he thrust deep his semen crime
In Hathaway. We do not know how shrill
His love for her was, shrill or not, or if
He only needed lust’s insistence rammed
Up in her guts, required his needy, stiff,
Invasion in and in until he slammed
His wordless message there. In words we’re told
Brooke’s beauty in Eumenides shone stark
On stage, that he was dressed in blue and gold—
And brilliant red—but we are in the dark
About how banging gorgeous Rupert shone,
Legs bared. Gashed, Eddie Marsh was forced to groan.
~ Phillip Whidden