Untitled Love Poem
by Grant Bailie
He fucked her twice in effigy
And once more just for fun
She fucked him at the start of Spring
And thrice when Spring was done
He fucked her last to say goodbye
But fucked her then again
She fucked him when the moon was high
Or if she had a yen
He fucked her ‘cause she had a hole
And he, he had a peg
She fucked him for a thing to do
Or just to time an egg
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
7 comments:
I did not want to sully Mr. Bailie's gentle musings with my comments in the main blog domain. Hence, I have relegated them to these, er, more liberal pages.
Mostly, I'm worried about the egg. Are we talking a hard-boiled egg? A three minute egg? Or, as my dearly husband posed, is he referring to one of the eggs in the ovaries of the "she/her" character in the poem?
What gives with the effing egg, bailie?
Erin: I can only assume that the egg timing reference means that in his, er, hands, the act occupies a precise and predictable amount of time, such that one can judge the cooking of an egg by it. I find this somehow upsetting, particularly if the egg is soft-cooked. And yet I love the poem.
I'm not thinking that egg's edible by the time they finally get to it.
A soft boiled egg, I am fairly certain. A three minute egg. She uses him in lieu of one of those little miniature hour glass thingies, which was once in the kitchen but has since been appropriated by the scrabble game.
Whatever the antonym for misogynist is, me would guess that this guy fits that bill.
To refer to the manhood as a "peg" is despicably pegorative (sic).
I don't find peg offensive. It's better than "nub."
Erin, you stole my diary.
Post a Comment