poetry texts, poem archive at plagiarist.com

Some women marry houses.
It's another kind of skin; it has a heart, 
a mouth, a liver and bowel movements.
The walls are permanent and pink.
See how she sits on her knees all day, 
faithfully washing herself down.
Men enter by force, drawn back like Jonah
into their fleshy mothers.
A woman is her mother.
That's the main thing.


Submitted by Emily

Added: 20 May 2003 | Last Read: 12 Feb 2012 4:09 AM | Viewed: 14040 times

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