Another sonnet [by David Lehman]

And here's another hot one by David, for your sizzling summertime reading delectation.

Here’s to the duality of flesh
and blood, neck and rope,
and the temporary flush
of skin, absence of hope.

As far as foreplay is indicted,
here's to his length and her depth.
The whole vice squad is invited:
gambling, booze, dope, and death.

He will paint her not as a painter paints
a woman but as a painter paints a wall.
If fucking is the athleticism of the saints,
here’s to her autumn and his fall.

You will become addicted to his smell,
so use it well or not at all.