...written as though by Mr. Sark...
Powdered alabaster never so exquisite lay,
than seductively on your cheek today,
Smooth as chalk on blackboard used
to diagram my heart's abuse--
at your hands, strong and slender,
into my service, pressed to render,
at my own request spoken
under duress, this one token:
Employ your wiles to entrance gain,
to knock-out a man once-thought friend.
But in this service I did my own suit dis-,
for 'tis under your sweet touch I'd seek bliss
If only momentary
If only violent, voluntary
If only, had I the strength of will to abandon
All that to which I do aspire
I would glad accept a similar pyre,
on which to burn, under the pressure of
your skilled hands, to take my leisure,
Wrapped in towels as warm as slumber,
Living joys too much to number
Until--wary that you might tire,
Of me, my Love, and that to which I do conspire--
To death's massage, I'd call a cease,
and, hap'ly, end this life upon your kiss.
Disclaimer:This work is not affiliated in any way with the ABC spy series Alias, or, for that matter, Mr. Sark, whose poetry--until such time as he wishes to make it public--remains unsung, unfeted, and largely unknown.
by: Neftzer 2002 (c)
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