Sunday, May 30, 2010

Christina Rosetti's Cunt

 by  P.A. Levy
many years ago
when i was but a little skanky runt
i fell in love with christina rossetti 
because i believed lizzy and laura
were incestuous lessies
so i read more and more
i read all i could get my hands on
but the one thing i found most disappointing
she never wrote a poem
about her cunt

being victorian it’s not an unreasonable
assumption that her bush 
wasn’t particularly well trimmed
and under all that crinoline 
and petticoats and petticoats
with heavy duty bloomers
it’s a safe guess of a sweaty muff
maybe slightly sweetened by rose water
with just a hint of lavender
i wish she’d written a poem
about her cunt

and i couldn’t give a toss
about bouts-rimés or sad songs
or even all that religious dross
i just wanted to know what made her wet
and when her couplet lips were parted 
would it make her juicy ode pantoum
i wish she’d written a poem
about her cunt 
  
Trapped in Kathy Acker's Blood And Guts

so there i was imagining 
kathy acker’s gash
but once inside i got lost
without a torch
i slipped on the darkness
almost drowned in sylvia plath’s
menstrual blood
but i clambered onto a clot
found an ariel
and managed to send out 
morse code messages
using emily dickinson’s dots and dashes
i went with the flow
eventually seeing the light of day
there was stevie smith
standing on the top of 
kathy’s white thighs waving
i knew that i was saved
but i don’t think i’ll be imagining
kathy acker’s gash again


Born East London but now residing amongst the hedge mumblers of rural Suffolk, P.A.Levy has been published in many magazines, both on line and in print, from ‘A cappella Zoo’ to ‘Zygote In My Coffee’ and many stations in-between.  He is also a founding member of the Clueless Collective and can be found loitering on page corners and wearing hoodies at www.cluelesscollective.co.uk

As for inanimate objects - I’ve several stones that I’ve cherished since they were pebbles.  They’ve always been my best (only) friends, but if we have a disagreement I throw them at glass houses - ‘cos I don’t live in one.

No comments:

Post a Comment