The End of It


I have foresworn desire.
I am become as a stink bug.
Yea verily I am a roly poly.
No more for me the hanky panky.
I neither lick nor moan.
I neither swallow nor spit.
I'm through with all that.
Moonlight on the ocean
is as soap scum to me now.
Beavers of love,
build not your lodges in my waters.
Snails quit sliming your kisses
over the cabbages.
I have delivered up my clit
to be disarticulated.
Now I'm going to be very quiet
and wait for that little marble squirrel
set among the tomato vines
to run away.