She’s waiting in the backroom,
She’s singing that ‘Retha Franklin song
low and moaning, like a cat.
The heat in her is piercing your walls.
Time for you to wake up, loverman.
All those notches on your bedpost,
all those welts you flog yourself with –
all those summer nights long gone…
Let the blood that rose within you rise again
Time to get your game on, loverman
She says she wants a whole man,
not a shadow from the shadows
who’ll leave her greasy inside.
Not a hollow beast with a bloodied butcher’s knife
Are you man enough to face her, loveman?
Moonlight frames you in the doorway,
Her eyes are shining for you,
her longing wills you there –
all her womanhood as weapon or as wound.
Are you afraid you’ll fail her, loverman?
Up the tresses of her red hair,
up her wicked, wanting thighs
to where she longs for you to kiss her
You’re the devil in her heaven
Do you pray to fallen angels, loverman?
The moonglow’s golden shadow,
lays like Jacobs ladder
‘cross the waters of the bay.
Tomorrow she may tell you that she loves you.
Admit how much that scares you, loverman
This poem originally appeared on my MySpace blog, Full Mental Jacket, on 08/04/2006