Unexpectedly, he made a sober
success
with his self-published book
of decorous confessions.

It eschewed turmoil in the
bedchamber
and coarse descriptions
of disarranged clothing,

but confided reminiscences —
a bird
which he’d stolen from a gold
cage;
a love message intercepted;

a trespassing glance glanced,
and the dénouement:
the day when he took her hand

and, with slow avidity,
stripped her white kid glove
from her warm, willing fingers.