Each time an act of Love occurs,
participating Hims and Hers
may, if they wish, invite Two more –
their Inner Children Three and Four
(or Five, but Three and Four at least) –
to join them on the Two-Backed-Beast.
And O what wickednesses they,
our Solipsistic Infants, play;
and with what absolute delight
in unrestricted Appetite,
all-seeing, all-consuming lust,
They rule the provinces of Must.
But He and She, we understand,
must always keep the upper hand:
and recognise the damage done
by children in the name of Fun
and, even climaxing, patrol
the boundaries of self-control.
For as we know, Disaster lies
in having too long closed one’s eyes,
while our Once-Only City burns,
on that for which the Ogre yearns,
or after see what rack and rape
follow the Psychopath’s escape,
Or, fearing to admit our Fall,
in never closing them at all,
and banishing, to somewhere wild
and distant, our internal Child,
avoiding mirrors, lest one see –
aghast – “The Exiled One is Me!”