Turbulence
Here sandbags are stacked
up against our rising river’s
[repeated] flood warnings –
malleable dams sit readied
to halt [almost alike Ximen
Bao’s shouts to halt He Bo’s
desires for perishing flesh!]
Massage-with-benefits lies
above & so raised enough
for A Special Happy Ending/
I pray for rain’s imbalance
to crawl up her gully-stunk
yard to her shed & labours
[as if impersonating my ire
of through-nights-to-rising
of-sun – my working hours
will be one way of gaining
She cashed out – less won
So she will pull on others –
with her grind & fingering
of re-worked old foreskins
But [only] her worthy men
screw – priced – in her grip
of pitted arse & old thighs
Do not marry a younger one
Buddha’s [misheard] advice
is no longer ill or imprecise
Younger sex craves excess
as our old loads diminish –
I feel sorry for her hunted