Roz Kaveney (rozk) wrote,
Roz Kaveney

This Catullus version is certainly not work-safe

And definitely belongs behind a cut.

Fuck, felch, quim, rim - I need you at my side,
you dirty little words. She thinks it's smart
to pad her tits with verse, to take my art
and wipe her arse. And I've already tried

to ask her nicely; she is now fair game.
So, hang around her shag pad's open doors;
you'll know her instantly. The other whores
pull faces and their skirts aside. Her name

is filthy just like you. So cluster round
jostle her, pinch her, mug her, shout out loud
'Give him his poems back, bitch.' In a crowd
say she's the long-lost mother that you've found.

And if that doesn't work, then simply try
to ask her nicely, beg, or even cry.

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