|AIDS AND WORDSWORTH|
"Strange fits of passion have I known ...|
But in a lover's ears alone".
We suffer aural intercourse,
Are much too specialized in sex.
There's Wordsworth, thirty, dares to tell
How six feet down his Emma lay,
A bird hopped by, he looked at her,
Again a look, didn't "wish her mine".
We want to know (you too, I'll bet)
How some bint in a bush is, dead, worth
Two between the legs. We're stunned
Because a love-position's lost that we don't see.
Lust-love and lechery, bondage-tied
To chronic herpes, thrush, a gnawing cancer of
the thighs. We hate our nature's gift,
an eye that oggles not receives.
A touch of Aids, Death's deepest screw.
Our bed can't hold the fore-play
Of the trees and rocks and stones:
We're much too specialized for sex.
|Peter De Ville is British, despite the name. He worked as an industrial chemist and then decided to read English at Swansea University. He was a lecturer in English at Genoa University, Italy. Hobbies? Could list walking, cycling, gardening, playing the piano - and doing chemical experiments. Published widely in British literary mags: Chapman, Staple, The North, The Rialto, Krax, Critical Survey, Ramraid, Envoi, The Wolf etc, and has had work (in translation) published in Italian mags. His collection OPEN EYE was published by Tuba Press in 2003. He has another poem on the Zimmerzine Archive.||
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This page last updated: 9th July 2009.