YOUR PUSSY

YOUR PUSSY
in the morning
when I wake up
the first thought I have
in my blown out brain is this:
your pussy is a cemetery
where the lonely go to mourn the dead
it is a strange thought to have
upon waking in the morning
because the ‘you’ of whom I’m thinking
can only be god itself
and it is supposed
and would make sense
that god is neither male nor female
but again the thought comes:
your pussy is a cemetery
where the ghosts go to learn
that they are already dead
what a thought indeed, I think
because although sometimes lonely
I am not a ghost
nor am I already dead
or seeking death
not just yet
not right now
not today
and not like this
so I think to myself:
I’ve seen enough pussies
to know that yours
is different
some are simple
and straightforward
easy, and easy to understand
while some are complex
like terrible calculus problems
or finding your way
through a garden maze
drunk and in the dark
but your pussy
is like the kiss of death, yes
to venture near it
would be to invite death in for supper
and watch him carve out your heart for dessert
yes, yes
I can’t help thinking:
it’s true, it is so true
your pussy is a cemetery
where brave men go to kneel and die
and so I will be avoiding it
because you already know my thoughts
on death
this morning