plagued,

of men
aren't we made? and into
virile hugs built?
all those dead
laps shall crave
for sun-born sounds
so common they how adequate
they prove to be.
over a tissue troop afire
we bend and bend and so do we.
grow! as clammy scrotums
snuggle against
each other.
all those shoulder joints
shall march along shall slave
over hard shafts.
of men
can we be made? and in
love can we languish?
this is what
we thrive on and on.