Victorian Love Affair
Penniless sick sore and kept
alive by grace oft Fortune sneaks
into my bed her licks and whispers
warmbreath kisses o’er my thin and
shaven chest we strips us down
to fingertips and she with mani-
cure and I my violin-nail’d strong
debauched longfingered hands
go whither a pounding needs us
both most fondly oh! the youth cry
oh! but envy sticks its gristle down
their throats for this I tell you I am
Fortune’s very favourite boy.
