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.