To be enthroned in the gilded-floored homes
of those suburban whores whose scandalous
riches have apotheosized them, those
callipygous lords who, for seven years
on Ogygia (where Ulysses himself
was exiled), conspire to ride us—let them!
To make like Cæsars and be seized by them,
hands beneath Armani jeans Lust himself
kneels in, boxer-briefs falling like lost years
as we lie to them, our ages break homes
and hearts as lowered digits poke hard those
holes needing filling, we are scandalous
and shameless, relentless things scandalous
phrases render nameless, translating those
relics of ribald desire to fit homes
where fists rifle pages, bulleting them
who billet with older men, fighting years
like soldiers do tears, denying himself
tenderness to relive what he himself
never did, pleasure such men seek for years,
hiding desire deep in minds filled by them,
lachrymose waters made more scandalous
by fathers weeping over daughters, homes
colder without sons’ mouths to succour those
tired bones nymphs’ hands never clutch, islands those
patriarchs call us to dig up, jeweled homes
to be had if we’d just do scandalous
things: call him Dad as he touches himself,
thank his friends when generous, fucking them
senseless for fat allowances, for years
until Nature greets us with mature years,
deeming us useless, so let’s service them
as if each fiend were heaven’s king himself,
leading on these Zeus-bearded bears with those
delicious charms only youth’s scandalous
warmth can bring to glacial, palatial homes—
yes, libertines, let us fever these homes
with mythic soul-kisses to make blush those
beasts more rapacious than Hades himself.