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The Sacred Body Feminine

"Tits, haunch & cunt
Are all that's needed, strange, material thing
Above the neck, pretty, painted ballast can be cut free
And left the rest, for it's all that's need
Should we tug too hard on nipples and leave them long
Red and pointed like swollen udder-tips
Cut free and replaced with more appealing tissue
Stripped of strips of fat to be melted for wax
Jiggling no more as hardened clay and marble
Is made of it all, buttocks will ripple no more
Under Olympian movements
And knives for the sweet pussy
Trimming, snipping, uprooting
And wax tears every trace from asshole
The defoliated perfection of every egress found in smooth planes
But lips still hang forth, and sway, and move, and flap
Excise, excise, they will make sound no more,
Fragrant sheets will not hang past the dunes of making
It will be hidden below the sterile sands
And when the floods come, that blood staunched too,
Dammed, and made a dry place

Perfect, marble desert, nothing above the neck
Oh, the immanence of your material glory!"


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