Literature Of Love

I kiss you
as the day dawns.

And that night
upon your pillow

there is a poem
about that kiss.

You kissing me
now

telling me you love
Being turned

into literature.

Ah, but I’m not
the only poet

in this household.

And later that night
when inspiration strikes

and there’s no paper near
at hand

you write a poem
about my bum

on my naked behind

The words tickle
me to death

as does your breath
heavy now

coming in pants

concentration etched
upon your face.

I clenched my art
and the words ripple from one
buttock to the other.

“Your arse
my love...”

you smilingly inform me

“Or rather your posterior
will go down in posterity! ”

All that day
I refuse to shower

wear nothing
about the house

but your
poem.

by Dónall Dempsey

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