The eunuch’s spite

What hum has hummed and barbed a heart
that marched in place in stout disgrace
egregiously its tune.

What fumbling march had taught this heart
that crept its hand to the long-arch band
of ankle and cleft, then retired.

Soon was the answer the bald man said,
soon a crake will shimmy well away
its manifold clothes, hose off its skin,

perch on the artery, and lay its egg.
One single egg. Thin-shelled in sin, then again.

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~ by Jeremy on August 30, 2012.

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