p***y and c**k

he rose very early

every morning

Glory

in his reach

he would wake from farm to street

I am the C**k

let all and every know

I am awake

to slay the stench of sleep.

 

she would be curled

her sleek downy hair

bristles

at the C**k’s

impatient resurrection

lazy and warm

I am the P***y

there’ll be a time when I succumb

to strutting C**k

swallow him and leave

but for now

the Glory can but sleep.