Fast Poem: #18 The Emotional Availability of Sverre the Shipless

My penis fell off in the night.
it lay on the counterpane
next to her night clothes,
a lonely pink thought
without a pen.
I tried to put it back again
but it was cold & burned my hands.

She came home at 6PM.
Indecently incomplete,
I hid behind the bathroom door.

She saw my penis on the bed,
giggled & knocked & said everything would be okay.
Easy enough for her to say.

I cracked the door to watch her change;
the office heartache stepping out of
designer labeled pinstriped skin,
emerging from closet shadows
a primal goddess clad in nothing but air.
Breasts whole and firm were there,
and behind soft blond curling hair,
Sacred Pink pouted

Easy for her to say
Everything would be okay.

The Goddess donned pajamas;
primal splendor disappeared
into silky ecru clouds;
a sophisticated sorceress,
aura rippling in breezes
of her own design.

She dropped my penis
into the pocket of her dressing gown,
and walked down the stairs.

I heard her boil water for tea,
pop a cork and add brandy

She called up the stairs,
told me once again not to worry
Then tuned in an episode of something
on TV.

I reluctantly
found sleep.

The moon in the window
woke me at midnight & my left hand,
as is my habit,
checked for bits
of this and that & thrilled to find,
resting, warm & happy
the recently errant penis
safe and sound where it belonged.

At my side,
my lover murmured
sacred vowels and ancient rites
invoking buff spirits
and demons with six pack abs.

The thought came to me,
I should keep her close
for eternity
or flee.

© 2009 Chromepoet

  • Sharkey!

    This is the first poem of yours that literally has me APPLAUDING by the time I got to the end!!
    I am clapping my hands! This is great stuff!!

    • Chrome

      I am delighted you liked it, that you could relate.

  • ailec

    Not exactly easy to relate to 😉 but I like.

    One thing that did not smoothly flow for me: “…the pocket of her dressing gown…” You know why? Just reality, women’s silky sexy clothing often does not have pockets. Sigh. Take it up with the designers 😉

    • Chrome

      I believe Nora Charles would back me up on this: a proper dressing gown indeed does have pockets.

  • aile

    I would very much agree with Nora & you. It’s just that when I was reading the poem, I wasn’t feeling led into thinking the blonde would be wearing a “proper” dressing gown, is all.

    The very first time I went through the poem, that particular line stuck for me, and I realized a second later why (the disjoint between the whole silky ecru number and a dressing gown “proper” enough for pockets.) Simply a real world problem that I do know of. Sigh. I think that pockets and sexy can go together very well, but try to tell that to most people who create women’s fashions (i.e., what is actually available). Can you tell this is a sore point for me?

    I know she’s got to have someplace to put his penis, and she’s not walking around the house with a purse (one way out of this dilemma, all size jokes aside) …. After all, otherwise she might forget and leave it on the kitchen table or with the cooling,strained tea leaves, or as a bookmark in the “TV Guide”…..

    This reminds me of that checklist a friend says when he is getting ready to leave “watch, wallet, keys, spectacles, testicles”… 😉

    • Chrome

      I think you read slink where ripple and cloud-like are writ

  • ailec

    *rollseyes* Now I am laughing

    I may just need to show this to my friend who is so much more fashion-terminology-savvy…this is waaaay too much emphasis on one line, but in for a penny, in for a pound, or something like that.

    Okay, let’s see if I can do it this way, because I did see ripple & cloud….just imagine you are wearing said rippley and cloudy-likey attire, on those stairs. After we stop giggling at that image, you put what is akin to a deli-sausage-weight-item in a pocket of this fluffy fabricy stuff. You really think that’s gonna work? That’s why they don’t put pockets in these. You don’t exactly wear it for stashing things….

© 2008-2012 Chromia Poetics