Two Poems by Bob McAfee

Prurience

From my window I can see
a building, veiled in mystery
seven stories, looking back
seven houris dressed in black
seen through seven window shades
and I imagine seven maids

embracing seven handsome beaus
behind the outline of the rose
etched in blue upon the door
sketched into my metaphor
so I become a shapeless mass
and through the glass I darkly pass

to wander through the azure halls
infiltrate the harem walls
I slide beneath the chamber door
and find them lying on the floor
too occupied to notice me
still clinging to my chastity

but concupiscent as a newt
randy as a bandicoot
Juliets with their Romeos
behind the outline of the rose
the light is dim but I can hear
heavy breathers persevere

pant and moan obscenities
stripped down to bare necessities
suddenly I realize 
(a terrible faux pas)
it’s Sunday morning exercise
in the bowels of the Blue Rose Spa

Metamorphosis Nearly Done

I braid my armpit hair,
my conic hat
aflop, oil my broomstick,
ink the cat,
revoke the law of gravity,
conjure up a hexagram, win the spelling bee.

Standing over the black cauldron,
into the sweaty amalgam I stir:
poppy, guppy, puppy fur,
mandrake, hemlock, rue and rape seed,
cocoa puffs, cannabis, a squadron
of adder’s wort and sorrow weed.

Now I keep you in a tiny, wooden cage
accoutered with hamster wheel and maze;
let you out each morning for a scamper
then return you to your comfy hamper.
You thought nothing of weekending
with your secretary.

I didn’t think much of it either,
Harry.
Now you two will be joined again tonight
if I can just get the damned ingredients right.
I’ve invited her over for a frank tete-a-tete.
She’s hopeful to be able

to end up with you yet.
Over a cup of my hot herbal gin
haggling at the kitchen table
together,
I’ll give in; she can win.
You’ll be united forever.