Sordid Salome,
The veils you wear
And se'en divest
Lie on the ground
Like macrame.
Dances redound
A man impressed,
But I know, dear,
You're quite blase.
Panache and flair
Are mere pretense.
You do confound
During foreplay,
But, now, compound
Rues on your breast.
Rues overbear.
