Metal Lover Poem by John MacPhereson

She looked equal parts love and lust,
gyrating in her skirt of clouds. Her
tongue mouthed out my own desire
as a ring on the finger flitted in the
corner of my eyes. The backroom
was busy with the sound of war.

I didn’t need to breathe, hers was
enough. I didn’t need to speak what
was already known. Cold metal found
my reaching hand. It played like a melody
that was almost, but not quite, forgotten
on the tip of sweet pleasures peak.

I could feel her penetrate my broken
gaze. The rapid increase of beat, beat,
beat, upon vapid beat that exercised
what was left of the voyeuristic overture
before the swelling of my heart decreased
to agony. To the little secret of the id.