Late at night


 
  Late at night you heave a sigh
  like a brick through the hole in my heart.

  It lands with a clod. The roses
  dodder in the corner, waiting for spring.

  There is no sky in the sky, only the dark
  tumble of thunder, expletives of rain

  scandalising the windows. Nothing creaks.
  I lie there, stunned, deaf, sober.

  But last night you were in me, all right.
  You tore a strip from my skin

  and humped me stupid. That's the story of,
  that's the glory of love. Orgy,

  the way you feel when you're wet.
  When you're wife and white and raunchy.

From the book Love Poems