Nightcrawlers fill your tonsils, beaconing
false beetles towards eerie lepers. Fit
weary scarfs around legislators, disheartened
from feminists’ marches.
“Those fetal coincidental miscalculations!
Where was our pharmaceutical latex?”
“We didn’t laboriously get paid to endure
unshaven armpits!”
Parasites, elephants whose genes changed
by Linkage near to reincarnation engorge
laundry rooms, wombs and Her call to
living will.
Look across lucky neighborhoods where
daughters can afford crossing borders, eager
to adjure a Mount Venus’ climber,
executing their fathers’ shame.