AFTER HEGEL AND MARX WAS MRS OSBORNE.

It was the year
you were studying
Hegel and Marx
and Mrs Osborne invited you

to her place for an afternoon talk
(she said that the day before)
her husband being at work
and she at a loose end

and wanting to know
more of your art
and maybe read
what you had written

come in
she said
and you stepped
into the proverbial web

not feeling the entangling hold
about your limbs
take a seat on the sofa
which you did

looking about the room
neat and tidy and silent
except for the mutt
she’d locked outside

which whined
didn’t bring
any of my work
you said

maybe next time
she said
as she sat next to you
and moved closer in

her eyes feeding on you
her hand moving along
the back of the sofa
like a snake after prey

relax
she said
I won’t eat you
there was a photo

of her and her husband
on the mantel shelf
him looking out
at the viewer

with a small smile
and she looking glum
she placed a hand
on your thigh

(not the snaking one
but the other)
and moved it
upward

in pressing movements
you gulped and tried
to give the impression
you expected nothing other

(gone the mental image
of her as a substitute mother)
here or upstairs?
she whispered

her perfume
slightly overdone
invaded your nose
here is fine

you whined
(better than the mutt
who’d become quiet)
and let her hand wander

where it would
her lips setting themselves
for kissing and yours
wanting to speak

but not doing so
feeling hers close
on yours
with her eyes closed

her hand feeling
through cloth
for your pecker
which stirred

like a prodded
hibernating reptile
her snake like hand
had placed itself

about your neck
and drew you in
and out of your
one open eye

saw the Osborne guy
in the photograph
not smiling
but seeming to laugh.