The last time she meekily made love,
she painted woad on her arms
and bemoaned the children she never bore.
She summoned their names as "Iso" and "Tope",
to her bemused lover she retorted
"I want to make Roar, not Love".
She bode on the straightest longitude
to Banyas and bathed in its spring,
fortified by Tennessee Honey,
to Quneitra, she bore wire cutters
having already wept for a town
destroyed by un-love,
where she could simply set up a commune,
To grow Kohl Rabi and learn new days.
Instead Apache helicopters and glints of Uzis
Cast the spectre of World War Three
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 3:13 PM UTC
The last time she meekily made love,
she painted woad on her arms
and bemoaned the children she never bore.
She summoned their names as "Iso" and "Tope",
to her bemused lover she retorted
"I want to make Roar, not Love".
She bode on the straightest longitude
to Banyas and bathed in its spring,
fortified by Tennessee Honey,
to Quneitra, she bore wire cutters
having already wept for a town
destroyed by un-love,
where she could simply set up a commune,
To grow Kohl Rabi and learn new days.
Instead Apache helicopters and glints of Uzis
Cast the spectre of World War Three
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