look how a poor green woman
is grazing your solitude and its family
look how curved is she coming
under a phoney smile with
a double-chin rustling over the earth
and the apple trees

she is coming with mellow-pear
buttocks to mew at your
gate a rattling price

with tinder quack medicine
a peaceful lust resounds in you
(under the skull the wick is wet
and candid)
oh, wonderful opportunity to float
straddling between cellar
and zenith

what a chance!
there go rumours in the neighbourhood
that adam won’t bite eve
this year

it’s only a rumour