' ' ' Triumph Of The Will Poem by Dónall Dempsey

He tried to triumph
over her

Triumph bra

but he was all
'Damn! '(fingers) & 'Jesus! '(thumbs) .

'Oh...here! ' she snapped
'For God's sake! ' with ever
growing impatience.

'You are beginning to
not get
on my tits! '

And with a flourish
of fingers

(an almost imagined
drum roll)

she expertly
cast the aforesaid

mentioned unmentionable
nether garment

to the further region
of the room

whereupon
it came to rest upon

(curiously enough)

an elephant's leg
umbrella stand

that she used as a
nicker basket.

He standing before her
like a castaway

obviously
(so obviously)

pleased to
see her

as if his ship
had come in

& he was saved
from his desert island.

Ahh...a woman
makes such a difference

to any
... everything!