She held her honor
   in my hands
And I was willing
To be frank with her
Upended
   monstrous
      sense
Of value
Sent to me
   for soft deflowered
Presence
   left in essence
And empowered with the seeds
   of lust
And breaded trust
   that crunched
      with salty flavor
Savored by my
   yearning tongue
That spoke with
   fluent language
Smooth with spiked romance
That I would dance
And prance with macho pride
That bloomed
In simple trances
Flayed with chances
Taken
And forsaken in the fogs 
And mists
Incensed
   by musty rivers
      held in slivers
Of enlightened
   revelry

(c) 1996 James Oliver Smith, Jr