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Confessions of the Silk Easy Chair

I'm staying mum on how two sweet, firm round things

A few hours past,

Yielding, tempting

Pressed lusciously against me,

Or what a firm pair of arms

Adorned mine as private armrests,

Or how his lovely fingertips

Sported on the front of my fore-quarters, drifting,

Or what a pair of dear little limbs

Dangled freely between my own two legs;

And what an impressive head that was,

With its sweetly redolent, glossy hair,

Deigning to lean back against me as a headrest.

Such a fine young man he –

With an immature brain under that impressive head of hair,

Grown longing, tender for me by the dear flowings of his pineal gland.

Stay mum on how he came 

At last to have his diminutive array

Of lovely fingertips, round things, legs, arms and glands –

Rhyme now, or I'll die – embraced lovingly within my hands.

--Konrad Weichberger,

1920

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