1
The old lady has green eyes. She wraps up in a knitted shawl. She sits
in the park and she looks like she'll bite if you smile at her.
2
Gut energy is when you are too terrified not to do it.
3
The sculpture is a shiny red canvas c u n t stuffed with dacron,
with four white black-tipped feathers at the fold. You say the emptiness
is a phallus.
4
In respectable scholarly books translated from the French, one does not
say "c u n t."
5
When you were born, she was feeling so lousy from the labor, the drugs,
the nurses and doctor feeling her up, that the sight of you only made her
nauseous again. Or you always thought so.
6
It's something you'd always preferred not to think about anyway,
although it does call attention to itself sometimes with blood or heat.
But it has a certain economy. You never have to wonder about the shape of
pants, for example.
7
In the car we discuss power and sex appeal, how Picasso or Casals or
almost any octogenarian Supreme Court Justice can always find a young
woman to sleep with. Old wrinkled belly, white bristles all over his back,
c o c k like a worm among thistles. That old lady in the green shawl is
really the President of the United States, her breasts lapping like empty
canvas. That's why she's dangerous.
8
You say you are aware of sexual competition with your daughters.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Previously published and copyrighted in Earth's Daughters #8
All rights reserved.
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