The bed groans <br />as we moan <br /> <br />(there is a whole lotta <br />shakin' goin' on) <br /> <br />& now our books <br />half read...almost read <br />(one only just begun) <br /> <br />perched pecariously <br />perielously <br />above us <br /> <br />feel moved <br />to join us <br /> <br />in an orgiastic feast <br /> <br />& my head is assailed <br />by a HISTORY OF COLOUR <br /> <br /> <br />THE GIRL WHO PLAYED WITH FIRE <br />comes to rest neatly on my pert posterior <br /> <br />attacked by our own <br />private library <br /> <br />bured under an avalache <br />of reading material. <br /> <br />From one tome <br />a cut-out instruction <br /> <br />(yellowing now with age) <br /> <br />insists we must <br /> <br />make a circle <br />out of a man & woman. <br /> <br />Our laughter <br />squaring the circle.<br /><br />Dónall Dempsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/making-a-circle-out-of-a-man-woman-2/
