Angels

The theme was Angels and Devils and you

looked so sweetly innocent in your

gauze and wings, your

long hair coiled and tressed, your

lips a pretty pink and

part of me wanted to

preserve that picture for

posterity but the darker part foresaw with

pleasure the point of the party when

gauze would be torn and

wings bent, that lovely mouth

pleasing men and women whilst your

lower orifices were

otherwise employed, and I

looked forward to

wrapping you in my coat, after,

my tired and satisfied Angel

sighing into my shoulder

reeking of sperm and

leaking pleasure.

Graduation

She looked at herself in the mirror and

marvelled at the mess they’d made: her

matted hair was Harry

missing by a mile; her

schoolmarm glasses saved her eyes

from Simon’s spurts;

left cheek was Charles, right

aggressive Andy; the thick

ammoniac taste was Dwayne and

Fred and Chico and Shane

--oh and cold-eyed Winston who’d

made sure she swallowed; the

decaying pearl necklace was Ming;

right breast dripped with Dave;

left with Anthony and weirdly

Stan had sprayed her shoulder-blades.

She resaw herself then as they

surrounded her sore, naked,

kneeling body and felt relief and

regret that Graduation was but

once a year.