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.