Twenty-four Carat Ecstasy
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
Envisage that you turn his eyebrows gold
As Eros’ bow the moment just before
He shoots. Another heart is forced to fold
In agony of love. This time the gore
Though, comes from hairs upon that stunning male,
The face you know is love itself, its brows
The launching tool for arrows that impale
And cause the chest to search for sacred vows
Conceive of turning bluest eyes a blue
More blue than every truth that men have thought.
Think god-like if you can as gods construe
A man as forceful as a gold garotte.
Imagine you could make men just as crude
In power as your lover in the nude.
~ Phillip Whidden