Acornesque (extract from Poem by Paul Verlaine)

Acornesque

II

My master's knob, the high-point of
My lover's love,
Peak of a being that's adored,
That with a joyful, frightened gasp
My arse can clasp
And welcome, happy to be bored.

So many tims by that stout prick,
That streteches, thick
And swelling, boastfully evokes
Its gallantries by field and beach
And in the breach
Charges withb furious bounding strokes -

O root, who feed my guts with sap,
O upright tap
Where my mouth also sucks and plays,
O delicacy I like best
Warmly expressed,
Whatever false shame sighs and says -

Come acorn, come, my heart of oak,
Sit straight and poke
The hot mauve baton smooth as silk
Into my hand where it arrays
Itself in sprays
Of sudden opalescent milk.


by Paul Verlaine (1891)