Cunt

for K.
 
What is it in vulgarity  
that makes me think of poetry?  

We live upon a fallen world  
with fats and shats and bad TV,  
so why should all this fucking dirt  
be wasted looking at the sun?  
 
Let's writhe in waste, my cunting hogs!  
Let's activate our hunting cogs  
and seek the living alchemy  
of cack like none other.  
 
Aquinas kept the whore at bay,  
a lion-tamer with his chair  
held up to strike her down.  
Let's let her in the room, and stare,  
and watch her brush her greasy hair.