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76 pages, Paperback
First published September 1, 1999
MRS. SISYPHUS
That's him pushing the stone up the hill, the jerk.
I call it a stone – it's nearer the size of a kirk.
When he first started out, it just used to irk,
but now it incenses me, and him, the absolute berk.
I could do something vicious to him with a dirk.
Think of the perks he says.
What use is a perk, I shriek.
when you haven't the time to pop open a cork
or go for so much as a walk in the park?
He's a dork.
Folk flock from miles around just to gawk.
They think it's a quirk,
a bit of a lark.
A load of bollocks nearer the mark
He might as well bark
at the moon
that feckin’ stone’s no sooner up
than it's rolling back
all the way down.
And what does he say?
Musn’t shirk—keen as a hawk
lean as a shark
Musn’t shirk!
But I lie alone in the dark,
feeling like Noah’s wife did
when he hammered away at the Ark;
like Frau Johann Sebastian Bach
Her voice reduced to a squawk,
my smile to a twisted smirk;
while, up on the deepening murk of the hill
he is giving one hundred per cent and more to his work.
FRAU FREUD
Ladies, for argument’s sake, let us say
that I’ve seen my fair share of ding-a-ling, member and jock,
of todger and nudger and percy and cock, of tackle,
of three-for-a-bob, of willy and winky; in fact,
you could say, I’m as au fait with Hunt-the-Salami
as Ms. M. Lewinsky - equally sick up to here
with the beef bayonet, the pork sword, the saveloy,
love-muscle, night-crawler, dong, the dick, prick,
dipstick and wick, the rammer, the slammer, the rupert,
the shlong. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve no axe to grind
with the snake in the trousers, the wife’s best friend,
the weapon, the python - I suppose what I mean is,
ladies, dear ladies, the average penis - not pretty…
the squint of its envious solitary eye … one’s feeling of
pity …
MEDUSA
A suspicion, a doubt, a jealousy
grew in my mind,
which turned the hairs on my head to filthy snakes,
as though my thoughts
hissed and spat on my scalp.
My bride’s breath soured, stank
in the grey bags of my lungs.
I’m foul mouthed now, foul tongued,
yellow fanged.
There are bullet tears in my eyes.
Are you terrified?
Be terrified.
It’s you I love,
perfect man, Greek God, my own;
but I know you’ll go, betray me, stray
from home.
So better by far for me if you were stone.
I glanced at a buzzing bee,
a dull grey pebble fell
to the ground.
I glanced at a singing bird,
a handful of dusty gravel
spattered down.
I looked at a ginger cat,
a housebrick
shattered a bowl of milk.
I looked at a snuffling pig,
a boulder rolled
in a heap of shit.
I stared in the mirror.
Love gone bad
showed me a Gorgon.
I stared at a dragon.
Fire spewed
from the mouth of a mountain.
And here you come
with a shield for a heart
and a sword for a tongue
and your girls, your girls.
Wasn’t I beautiful?
Wasn’t I fragrant and young?
Look at me now.
“…they’re bastards when they’re Princes,
What you want to do is find yourself a Beast. The sex is better.”