The Administration Of Justice Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Weak, stupid, vain and powerless
She was responsible, asking for it
Putting it all on show
He claimed it was consensual
He undressed her with a look

She wanted to be mastered, to be controlled
She was a wanton, unchaste, a slut
When weighed in the scales of justice
Like a greasy pot, she was open to be being scourged
Her nails, the colour of boiled lobster claws

She was gagging for it, lips as red as sin
Her crotch, a perfect ring for his probing finger
She was an undulating sea, tossing the boat of his back
Her nipples were grapes, tweaked by countless men

Her tongue was a flicker of flame
Her womb, a quicksand

And that is why he stooped above her
Like a bird of prey, ready to fell and feed
She needed to be taught a lesson
Again and again he drove the point hard home