Some things scare me so much to death, I cry.
Cunninlingus, for instance. I think: reef --
bright choral crevices, sure, but teeth,
mores eels! out of nowhere grab me. Why?
I read somewhere the fragrant clitoris
is solely devoted to pleasuring
(for that reason alone worth treasuring),
but what if she tastes like black licorice?
Dunno. Got over my fear of monsters
under the bed, who live there to nab you
and turn your bunsened mind into lab stew
or plop! a screaming pot of mad lobsters.
I'm willing to give snorkeling a go
harmonica glissando oh oh oh
######
*Poem inspired by a BBC piece that featured 100 vulvas in your face.
