Infernal Combustion

They told me that my daughter
kept a young lover in the loft
gagged and bound willingly
on a bare mattress, waiting
in the nude, on stand by
for the whim of her moment

and that he was left patiently
in a permanent state of arousal,
a handsome victim,
ready, his ears honed
to any sound and his mind open
for her call to come at anytime

while my daugther slowly
and deliberately weaned him
in her boredom from a passion
that had faded, as her outside
love life took on more colour

until a week to her wedding day,
when I, without warning, looked
for my hat box in the loft,
and found what I thought
a strange smouldering heap,
man-shaped. In its centre upright
a phallus, full in its splendour
and oh horror it pulsed,
it gyrated,
it wept.