Nocturnal Admission

While the bed sheets are

yet warm, disheveled,

soaked from an endless

night of spent passion;

While the sweet fragrance

of sweaty, deflowered youth,

with a hint of musky spunk,

rises off my nakedness;

While the young cub purrs

peacefully in deep slumber,

in the bedroom,

the lion’s bedroom,

the poet writes tonight.

~g