La Pièce de Résistance

This nymph-laden necessity

For all who yearn or hope

In vain for truths untold

Or scour the embers

In search of a loving soul

Deep within resplendent breasts

Which rise towards the highest host

Is carved upon each heart my name

In letters smooth and bold

Each plaintive sigh

Each moonstruck glance

Is a world all of its own

The universe is echoed

In each post-orgasmic moan

And though it may be folly

To heed the siren’s call

To fall for one’s creations

Is the curse of artists all

© Chris Bond — 26 June 2002