A whore, I've this to tell: men want my cunt.
I travel the Silk Road and sell my cunt.
I lay down nights here under the vast sky.
Under the ice of stars, unveil my cunt.
Persians, Turks, and Arabs flock to me.
One joy unites this clientele: my cunt!
Christians, Zoroastrians make the pilgrimage.
They worship me, rush pell-mell to my cunt.
Soldiers, camel-men, rich merchants, come.
See how they all grovel before my cunt.
I walk the mountains and endure dust storms.
I'm quite the belle--men love my pretty cunt.
Under the wagon, lamps burn, money clinks.
I'm laughing, rich as hell--my golden cunt!
by David Landrum
David W. Landrum has published poetry in many journals, including Measure, The Evansville Review, Web Del Sol, and others. He is the editor of the on-line journal, Lucid Rhythms.
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