Crushed Velvet



CRUSHED VELVET

Your crushed velvet dress lies,
In a mess, on the floor
Along with all the semi-precious colours.
As distant from me as you
You pay your dues and
Get out,
Wracking my soul with a cold sigh.
At least in a museum a rope of that fabric
Is all that keeps me from your jewellery.
Notwithstanding, a rope of that colour
Would secure precious justice
For what you could not possibly have done.
For me, at least, you did inveigle
Chance and circumstance
Into one solid motion of your finger:
‘Come’
Led by a velvet rope
I declare ‘I do’.
Yes, of course you do, like I enjoy eating
Raw meat without a serviette.
The colour pales from your face,
Like April dawning, when I suggest
Seeing in the new day together,
Sin exploded onto the canopy of the dawn,
That is mute, picking its moment to interrupt.
You collect your things, also the monkey on your back
And slip your dress back on, concealing all.
Strange, how I feel, I don’t mind, because
I have unlocked a code
Of an artefact
That is joy of man’s desiring
And it only took me one slip of a velvet rope
To do it.

About this poem

It's a lust poem

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Submitted by eurynonymous on July 29, 2022

Modified on March 05, 2023

1:06 min read
0

Quick analysis:

Scheme ABACDEFGBBHIJKLMNCODPQLRSTJUVDONW
Closest metre Iambic tetrameter
Characters 1,086
Words 220
Stanzas 1
Stanza Lengths 33

Patricia Walsh

Patricia Walsh was born and raised in the parish of Mourneabbey, Co Cork, Ireland. To date, she has published one novel, titled The Quest for Lost Eire, in 2014, and has published one collection of poetry, titled Continuity Errors, with Lapwing Publications in 2010. She has since been published in a variety of print and online journals. She has also published another novel, In The Days of Ford Cortina, in August 2021. more…

All Patricia Walsh poems | Patricia Walsh Books

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