Post me your verses like withered blooms
under the mattress I hide them
to sue for justice in my cause
you wronged me, son of womb
you took me virgin at 15
you weighed me down with 13 kids
and when you saw me country plump
your eyes wandered to city girls
who knows what plagues were stored in their loins.
As certain as after drought that's long,
storm and flood is released
your time will come, you son of sperm
boulders grow in your latrine
a bad bird roost upon your nose
may you have a shovel for a tongue
camel hair grow in your teeth
regret be your final passion.
As the Prophet commands,
I forgive
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