You see this flesh
and you want to possess me.
Since you are terminally thick
you misconstrue my jests as reality.
Even my insults are erogenous to you
since you don’t understand simple sentences.
and though I slap away your feeble grip
still you think you can heal me
by hiding your pricked-up mess
in the opening between my thighs.
You speak of love
as if it’s a gift which cannot but hold my interest;
a treat that must surely fascinate
*(She said “Love? Lord above,
now you’re tryin’ to put me in love.”)
Looks like you’re too late, mate.
Better men have tried,
but worse men got there first.
You missed the train by miles.
If you’d been there with your fists fifty years since,
you could have licked the rapist and changed my history,
but you were busy with some silly missus,
making your own mistakes, shouting down deaf alleys,
cursing, boozing, losing at pool,
the two of you taking turns to screw up your kids,
and I wouldn’t have looked twice even then.
*Lyric from Free; All Right Now.
©Jane Paterson Basil