Slave Owner
Modern poetry modern verse contemporary poetry contemporary verse modern poem contemporary poem
“whipping Courtenay in some posture or another”
The Gothick lover Beckford bends to whip
His boy. The whipper bends himself in shape
That shocks the viewer as he sees the hip
Struck red. The door has opened: leather rape
Of flesh and soul is jealousy’s attack
Because the young heart has a secret love
The whipper has not guessed. The boy goes slack
Except one part because the hand above
Is striking pain in pleasure. It is fire
That burns in lovers’ hearts forever, though
An evil form. The flames are that desire
From which religions of the world all flow.
The lovers in the whipping tower room
0 Comments