If I read another love poem …
I will join a dagger to my face,
and carve out my eyes.
Shakespeare writes of lascivious grace–
Sounds more like rape implied.
Neruda looks into the crystal moon,
Sailing towards the isles of yours–
Chilean desperate for poon.
Dickinson needs to get off all fours
Maybe then she won’t be as capacious as the sea.
And Poe’s got a Lolita complex,
Nonconsensual touching of Annabell Lee.
And somehow horny teenage sex
Deserves just as much respect.
Just don’t shove it down my throat– from love I disconnect.