First my father,
then the teachers,
last of them my husband preacher.
Dependent of each other
and of one authority
they me duly sent into exile;
that I had no rite to write about
especially no right to question
every blooming everything.
When I poemed local Polly Annas
when Scripture-like I spewed verse
my ass they did and thrice did curse..
Through clenched fists I heard them oath
"Let's water-board the bitch,
and do humanity a freakin' flavor."
"Better yet, between two walls
let's spread eagle her leg to leg
so she can savor a taste if hell."
I have survived you pious robes,
you hooded sheriffs,
grand inquisitors of us maidenheads.
Bye, bye I'm off, you sawed off males
to cartoon sweep
in other places, other faces.
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