With Love, Consumed
Within a room, the woman comes and goes
in cinematic dream scenarios;
such is the pleasure dome which you decreed,
where satisfaction’s safely guaranteed
and takeaway becomes the food of love.
Between the sheets, the winding sheets you wove,
starvation’s angel waits upon your word
to serve, to service, serve up the absurd.
A little numbness comforts: eat, repeat;
the aftertaste’s a secondary concern.
Full-filling is indecency’s deceit:
the emptiness insists, on its return,
on greed, on need indeed which will not wait.
And, truth to tell, it’s stranger to relate.
Philip Quinlan has a chapbook, Head Lands (White Violet Press, 2012). He received nominations, in 2011, for both The Best of the Net and Pushcart. His work has appeared in: The Flea, The Chimaera, Lucid Rhythms, Lilt, Soundzine, Numinous, The Avatar Review, The Centrifugal Eye, Sea Stories, Shit Creek Review, Shot Glass Journal, Victorian Violet Press, Whale Sound, Studio 360, In Stereo Press, The Hypertexts, Lighten Up Online, Antiphon and Raintown Review. He is also co-editor of Angle Journal of Poetry in English. He lives in the UK.