Burnt by Love By Frank De Canio

Burnt by Love
  
Although it gave me a nice complexion –
lying with you that balmy afternoon –
I’m sorry I didn’t wear protection 
  
before embarking in that direction,
with my skin swelling like a red balloon.
And though it gave me a nice complexion,
  
its bittersweet fruit, besides infection,
was a prickling eruption that would soon
make me wish that I had worn protection.
  
Though I should accept what’s past correction –
since your sexy bikini made me swoon
with affection for your nice complexion –
  
I should have managed with circumspection
when clocking in beside you at high noon.
I’m sorry I didn’t wear protection,
  
or at least that you had voiced objection
when both of us squashed qualms that balmy June.
For though it gave me a nice complexion,
  
and a glowing sense of resurrection
amidst a warmth that seemed so opportune,
I’m sorry I didn’t wear protection,
  
at least when flush, after my erection
of the sand castle. Though by the next moon,
I’ll be father of a nice complexion,
I’m sorry I didn’t wear protection.  

Born & bred in New Jersey, Frank De Canio worked for many years in New York City. He loves music from Bach to Amy Winehouse. Shakespeare is his consolation, writing his hobby. As poets, he likes Dylan Thomas, Allen Ginsberg, and Sylvia Plath. He also attends a Café Philo in Lower Manhattan every other week.   

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