Catholic schoolgirl fantasy

The poet wrote some strange stuff yesterday, he must've been up half the night just assembling new works. Some he shared, some he did not. Most were his usual fare of metaphysical and deeply romantic, introspective works.

This one was not, which is why I am sharing it. I do not believe it is a real story, probably just the result of a dream of a mental meander.

Catholic schoolgirl fantasy

She calls and I answer,
this tall, tawny dancer,
her intentions are clear without mention.
She's applying for muse
and I can hardly refuse
as I know when the words start to flow.

Her skirt, it is pleated,
(expletive deleted)
and she has way too much breast for that vest.
She tells me she's not waiting,
my hunger needs sating,
and she'll play for my heart in this part.

I'm not really complaining,
as my resistence is waning,
as my eyes pry her thighs for my prize.
Not a character actor
in my life has been factor
but I'm staking this claim, all the same.


William F. DeVault. all rights reserved.


He calls these sort of pieces "trifles" and usually consigns them to the hell of the "black catalog" to remain unreleased until after his death. Well, he may have meant to assign this one thus, but... Some nice double entendres, unusually playful.