Discarded women asking why
Like the overbearing sky
Affected him so forcefully
He had to lie
Yet
Enjoying a steak or a
Succulent waitress
He becomes complete
The world is his mattress
And in deep night
Asleep, but his fingers
Are writhing like moles
Deep in a memory
Chutney of girls
Then beyond dreams
In that silence never knows
What silence is nor can suppose
He floats or shrinks or is not but
Comes flashing in desire to rut
And when it's done
Smoke receding through a veil
Not seen but felt, a face caught upside down,
A crooked smile, a salt mother, down,
Memory censored, a blank wall.
Rest of a kind, though small.