Story of a Hotel Room

Thinking we were safe – insanity.

We went in to make love. All the same

Idiots to trust the little hotel bedroom.

Then in the gloom…

…And who does not know that pair of shutters

With the awkward hook on them

All screeching whispers? Very well then, in the gloom

We set about acquiring one another

Urgently. But on a temporary basis

Only as guests – just guests of one another’s senses.

But idiots to feel so safe you hold back nothing

Because the bed of cold, electric linen

Happens to be illicit…

To make love as well as that is ruinous.

Londoner, Parisian, someone should have warned us

That without permanent intentions

You have absolutely no protection

– If the act is clean, authentic, sumptuous,

The concurring deep love of the heart

Follows the naked work, profoundly moved by it.

-- Rosemary Tonks