I would be your lace enclosed
Dewy Irish rose
Your wide eyed
God-fearing wife
I would scream and taunt you,
Echo into the country night
Just to keep your tongue wet,
Your muscles used,
Red and tight
I’d tell you we need
Three ivory linen sheets
One to practice,
And perfect our technique
Two to plant
Each poppy seed
I’d fill you full
Up to the brim
Present to you my golden hair
To lay down all your worries in