CALL ME CUNT SONNET

Tanya Brolaski

Call me cunt, I am my own big brother,
Like Hesiod, had he had his druthers
I’m spitting on the nail I out to clip
To make my heart thump harder on the lam.
That rhyming hazard that you thought you writ
That fucks folks harder than a free verse can
Is lisping with its colored consonants
Is buggering the fuck out of abstinence
While my bitch sits high atop the firmament
Tugging at the garter of the god of gods
& with such look of am’rous compliment
I blushed to voice, flushed to blow her wad
    My rhymes though sometimes given to be shallow
    Will not their horns unspill, nor pose themselves as fallow.