j

I follow the flesh like leaves

blown along the wind trap the

broadland makes of the common

the shadows of dead mills

superseded by pump assemblies

it is for the truly ugly

to so vehemently ratify

the severance of sex

from the bounds of attraction

to couple it instead with

the fundaments of biology

with physical release only

that grim judder

to beg of them, silently,

all of them

to beg that if they for even a moment

manifest the urge to

tenderly brawl

to acclimatize to fresh meat

then to do so with I

I with a passable degree of erotic competence

I with a bent for great guilt shouldered solo

I who will judge not

or will judge

but only by way

of a constructed prose work

written years later

that I can assure you

will not be read

will never be.