It’s Come to This: the Downton Poem

Downton Abbey

Blame it on all those Facebook surveys. It’s day 20 of the Tupelo Press 30/30 Erotic Poem Project, and I needed inspiration. Damned badly, as Robert might say.

Scroll down to read the poem here, and check out the 30/30 site for more poems by me and the other stalwarts. And please consider signing up to sponsor me–the month’s almost over, and I still haven’t reached my goal. I’d like to raise at $350 for Tupelo, so they can keep supporting writers and publishing beautiful books!

Sex and the Abbey

The survey said I’m Matthew, he
who’s steadfast, passionate,
and dead. I found him sexy
not at all, I wanted to break him.
That must be Mary in me talking,
Mary in ice, a frozen Ophelia,
or the sharp-tongued aspish
Edith, the one who keeps
losing, who took so long
to consummate. Sex is wide
awake, even in that confectionary
castle, stalking the halls
like Rochester’s wife (minus
moans, of course.) Who knows
where the fire next will be lit?
I’m awake, too, watching
them cavort, embrace, crinkle
gracefully-aging eyes in ersatz
concern. Where is this poem
going? In what way erotic?
Maybe more narcotic, the blue
buzz, our hearth. I should be
upstairs but I am down.

One thought on “It’s Come to This: the Downton Poem

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