Come in, she said,
Visit my sweet
Palace of sin,
Tour the contours
Of my sweating

Pleasurable
Flesh, the deep dark
Places of my own
Desirable
Zones, the flooding

Flames of passion,
But that was then,
And that kind of
Men, what of now,
With the coming

Of age, the cramps,
The greying hair,
The failing eyes,
The hearing loss?
Who will visit

Me now, who will
Tour these wrinkled
Contours, these dead
Zones, the burnt out
Palace? Who come

In and cleanse me
From my sick sin?