[others] to my son priapus
author: usagi anami (pukingtoreador)
email: pukingtoreador [at] hotmail.com
It was clear why you weren’t wanted
though in your make nothing is monstrous.
No snake hair, spilt tongue, or scorpion tail.
Only the horror of ordinary ugliness:
Your eyes expressionless and dark,
damp stones set too close together.
Your lips, thin and writhing,
two worms coupling.
You’re ugly, boy. You don’t need to
be pretty to plant seeds and tend the soil.
Opinion and culture play no part in it-
even ravens and magpies agree and
flee at the sight of you. A blessing, then
that birds can’t tell a statue of your
homely mug and you apart!
You’re ugly, boy. Love doesn’t change
it. Love makes me love your ugliness,
as a hand loves calluses,
a rose brambles.
the end
email: pukingtoreador [at] hotmail.com
It was clear why you weren’t wanted
though in your make nothing is monstrous.
No snake hair, spilt tongue, or scorpion tail.
Only the horror of ordinary ugliness:
Your eyes expressionless and dark,
damp stones set too close together.
Your lips, thin and writhing,
two worms coupling.
You’re ugly, boy. You don’t need to
be pretty to plant seeds and tend the soil.
Opinion and culture play no part in it-
even ravens and magpies agree and
flee at the sight of you. A blessing, then
that birds can’t tell a statue of your
homely mug and you apart!
You’re ugly, boy. Love doesn’t change
it. Love makes me love your ugliness,
as a hand loves calluses,
a rose brambles.
the end