Westwind

Cursin’ and Drinkin’

Daniel Henri Boden

Few poems are just about fucking
Unadulterated by metaphor and all that shit
Cunts and clits and dicks and tits
Kept down by whispered penstrokes.
I’d like to mention the bitches and snitches—
Not the first-on-the-bandwagon boys fucking
Girls, nor the girls who it’s-my-first-time fuck ‘em

Right back. I mean the twat swats and cock blocks
Unable to let fucking be fucking. They load up on
Mojitos and text you the next morning with metaphors and shit.
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