Synchronous Dark Sonnet


she knows he is just a bit casual

about his recent dose of syphilis

That he worships sex: let’s be factual:

The worm in the grave has alarmed roses,

Casual is an attitude, not some absurd

Longing after trash laden and insane

bedrooms in dark alley hunts for some bird-

like girl with a bra worn thin like a membrane

boosting the breasts of the queen for a day.

Today’s special: dark breasts ala eggplant

wrapped in wrinkled sheets and face it, ok?

more than a few dark brews make him adamant.

Whispering soft, lonely prayers of nothing

serious, he enters her with loathing.


Stephen Morse
December 2000