WEBVTT

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The rest of these poems are
from the two collections

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of mine forthcoming:
To the Quick,

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which comes out next month.

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And a collection called
Shades, which will

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be coming out in February, '88.

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This first couple or so are
not for KXCI and the FCC.

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You might want to cover
your children's ears.

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I Knew I'd Sing.

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A few sashay, a few finagle.

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Some make whoopee, some
make good, but most

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make diddly squat.

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I tell you, this is what
I love about America.

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The words it puts in my mouth,
the mouth where once my mother

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rubbed a word away with soap.

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The word was cunt.

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She stuck that great
big bar in there

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until there was no
hole to speak of.

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So she hoped.

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But still I'm full of it: the
cunt, the prick, short you,

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short I. The words
for her and him.

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I love the things they must have
done, the love they must have

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made to make an example of me.

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And after my lunch of ivory, I
said vagina for a day or two,

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but knew from that
day forth which word

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struck home with more
the force of sex itself.

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I knew when I was big, I'd
sing a song in praise of cunt.

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I'd want to keep my word,
the one with teeth in it.

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Even after I was raised, I
swore nothing but nothing

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would be beneath me.

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Not like the Victorian
era when, as mom said,

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asterisks were followed after
a certain interval by a baby.

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