How he lost his love

She was
speaking to her idol the new king.
MET BY THE BOATING LAKE
another refugee of the park.
My vulva, the horn,
will you fill it she askedt the lord of Heaven,
full of eagerness like the young night
that would come,
said it with pain,
said head fill.
My untilled land lies fallow she maybe felt.
As for me, I have nothing,
Who will run sharp nails across my........ my vulva?
Who will plow my high field?
Who will plow my wet ground?
As for me
I have a husband
at this moment making
office jokes to office people
Mooorgate way, the young woman said,
Who will plow my vulva?
Who will station the ox there?
Who will plow my vulva.
He the idol would fall
from grace
soon
just like the pleader
in his cheap office suit in Moorgate
who would forget to examine
that Vulva
for signs of the plough man
and would forget that love had
taken a trip
to another conscience