September Poem 50: Stand Up and Signify

Ever the cuckold. Ever the man in the horned

Helm standing in public protest of him-

Self. The long raking scrape off self-scourging.

The deep clean slice of a limber switch on

A naked thigh. The ache of walking in

To find another enthralling her. The

Pain felt good, for he had to self the soul.

But that was beside the point. Beside the

Intense blue of close cropped hair. The metal

Rings pierced through. And the black painted lips. All

Aggressively feminine in all the

Wrong ways. He had wanted another try

At whatever she turned down. To be strong.

To be masculine. To be in control.

 

 

Irrelevant

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