(Michael) Their bodies Triumphant
Their power unfurled
I know I am nothing
And women the world!
A slave to their favours
Their no and their yes
I’m crushed in the crease
Of a cotton dress
And I’m dead except
In their company
And I’m only at rest
When they motion to me
And night after night
I turn to myself
And I raise them
Out of my panic
And they come to me
Willing at last
Inflamed and fast
Mutual and graphic.
And suddenly they drill my heart
With cavities of absence
And they cover their thighs
with cellophane
And they cover their breasts
with a shadow
And they nail my good right hand
to a wall in the attic
O take me away
From the thorns and the fire
And let me recline
On the Throne of Desire
From the Throne of Desire
I make this solemn decree
Every woman I want
Will want, will want, will want
Will more than want me!