A Nocturnal Upon St. Lucy’s Day, Being The Shortest Day by John Donne

Mid-night
seven past unmasking
revealing
no time for squibbling
or concealing
I will see
I will with balmed hands
un-earth thee
your feet will be
upon my bedding

this and more in-store
galore
galump galay with me
now
yes let us alchemical how
wowzers!
yowzers!

look what happened to my
trousers
beseech me not
beneath the breachers
kissed
but caught

flood-gates opening
prepare to be drowned
i once was lost
look what I found

sun-dews Goat-run
virgin berries
it may be but a moment
but its Good
and plenty