A woman’s body is the rent payment. It is a map of the earth.
A woman’s body can be divided into parts
which can then
be used to name a type of man,
as in, a tit man,
a leg man,
as opposed to just an Ass, man.
The commercial-ideal
of a woman’s body looks like
a very tall, skinny adolescent
boy with tits and no penis.
It would appear.
A woman’s body is found
murdered in the undergrowth.
A woman’s body is available
on Craig’s List, tattooed,
scarred,
stolen, unacceptable.
Not her! She’s a child,
not a woman yet, pal.
A woman’s body is more
than you can handle.
Is that why you take her
in sections?
She is the tunnel from which you emerged.
The soft
mountain of your infancy.
This is your mother we’re talking about here.
A woman’s body is a place of art,
a form of forms, asymmetrical wonder.
Sexually perfect, she belongs to herself
like the earth belongs to the earth.
And speaking of the planet on which you stand,
that body was fashioned by
the same great Mother
who made the work of art that a woman’s body is.
