Ah, another piece of poetry....

'Arsehole' by Craig Raine (1984)

It is shy as a gathered eyelet
neatly worked in shrinking violet;
it is the dilating iris, tucked
away, a tightening throb when fucked.

It is a soiled and puckered hem,
the golden treasury's privy purse.
With all the colours of a bruise,
it is the fleck of blood in albumen.

I dreamed your body was an instrument
and this was the worn mouthpiece
to which my breathing lips were bent.

Each note pleaded to love a little longer,
longer, as though it was dying of hunger.
I fed that famished mouth my ambergris.

OK, have to confess that this reads like a paean to bum-sex.  Can't actually believe that we were forced to study this at university.  

I could certainly think of a more cathartic way of describing an arsehole - several ex-lovers, managers, etc....