A Disproportionate Hunger Poem by GRANT FRASER

(for Verlaine and Plath)

Ever looked up a woman's
fanny,
I mean right up there...

like a fruit opened out,
with all the intricate
pink parts locking,

who knows what they're
even called?

but what is so shocking?
that men require to look and look,
and so much like many, many,
different types of hidden faces,

but with a soft pink tissue
sheen,
it's ascents to dream, and moisten,

so what do you want from them,
us difficult men, in our desires
that never seem to end anywhere?

only that everything is inside out,
or back to front,

for us with the hard measure
forever pressing,
and stalwart in the dark
corridor of love,

for there isn't really one,
that you wouldn't require to look at,
and the world is nothing
but a sin away from everything,

collaborated to melt us down
for the disgust of some,
of course life is all about
bodily functions,

but beauty can be there too...

so what is so ugly if you
really want to look so much,

maybe because the mind is
far uglier than the imperfect
or perfect genitals detected,

in other words we are made
to hide,

yeah! she said my rod was
quite perfect, not like some
others she'd seen,

and Sylvia's 'turkey gizzards'
can stand right up out of the grass,
it's not too much to ask?

of course
the rod is not as interesting
to look at,

and the slit such a pretty flower,
in all it's yearning.