More sex from The Green Press…

But, you know, literary sex. Intellectual. By Lee Webber.

 

Wilde’s Tomb

In vogue, with sodomite gait and a wink,
I kiss your grave and mouth your name, and then
imagine Savoy tables, amber drinks,
my buttocks tight like all your suppered men!
Just charm me Wilde. I€™m done with being coy.
I want a cigarette case made of gold.
I’€™ll let you feast on me, I’€™ll be your boy,
let scandal, infamy, pure love unfold!
Now lipstick covers you, your pigment shroud,
I hope you know the wonder that you give,
a homemade epitaph spells it out loud,
says €˜here lies the best man who ever lived€™.
I’€™ll leave you, cursing Victorian luck,
I’€™d sell my soul for one Wildean fuck.

 

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