Sonograms of Lust

My heart has all the chances of a map

Of ocean floors to find the kind of love

She yearns for since her dreams are more a trap

Than God’s celestial guidance.  She can shove

Her fairytale around, consult the Grimms

And Hallmark, dream away forever for

A man, a prince, but on volcano rims

Of actuality she’ll learn the score.

A man is just a man, a prince much worse.

Each on will want wild fantasies of sex

Requiring filthiness and hell’s own curse

While he is cumming.  That’s a certain hex.

  He’ll want a contour map of tits and lips.

    He’ll want to penetrate her deep hole hips.

~ Phillip Whidden