O
Oppressor
I
She standing with lifted skirt
Her love insatiable
And her goldstopped teeth
Thrusting garlic through my hairy nostrils
Disgust
No
Lovelust
Swooned by garlic must
Back the chancre
Wench I must command you
My lucky potato whence you stole
O
Oppressor
I
I wrote this poem in response to one of the chapters in James Joyce's Ulysses. Even those familiar with the novel may have to do some searching through the book to see what I'm getting at. I was doing a lot of research on issues with masculine identities when I wrote this. The form of the poem has many phallic and vaginal images.
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