You Cunt Talk About It

There is no good word
to refer to women’s Bermuda Triangle
and not sound silly,
like a porn star,
or like a gynecologist.

Instead, most people
choose the nom de plume
IT,
like an unwanted child
kept locked in the basement.
“IT hides in the shadows.”
“IT wants more attention.”

The word “vagina” comes
from the Latin root meaning,
Sheath for a sword;
a fabric or leather scabbard
to protect or encase weapons.

Pussy Galore is a fictional
character in the James Bond movie, Goldfinger.
 At the beginning of the flick she tells 007,
“You can turn off the charm. I’m immune.”
In the end, she has sex with Mr.
Shaken-Not-Stirred
under a parachute, thus proving
that no pussy is too strong to refuse
a man who introduces himself
with his last name first.

No one has a hard
time talking about Dick Cheney.
By the time H*llary Cl*nton comes
up, everyone throats
are mysteriously dry.

At the crossroads of spread legs,
it is a flower that blooms just beyond
the bridge of her arched back.

                NO! It is a Venus fly trap! Bits and pieces
from nature’s defunct comedy sketch!

It is a doorway.
Listen to the bell chime
with every satisfied customer
and new life to pass through!

                NO! It is a black hole! It snatches
light and matter! It is emptiness! It is darkness!

It is holy.
It is God.
Don’t you dare
say it out loud.