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 any time, 

while my daughter, 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.