Page:Konx Om Pax.pdf/93

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THE STONE OF THE PHILOSOPHERS
79

OVARIOTOMY

I love you, lass, and you alone.
What shall I say now death and life
Wrangle before the jasper throne
And cry to God to end the strife?

Kind words? a little good advice?
Patience, and fortitude, and prayer?
Tracts are so suitable, and nice?
"Dear chyild, there'll be no parting there!"?

O bourgeoisie! you read no doubt,
But still you have a lot to learn.
I am a lover, not a lout.
My thoughts take quite another turn.

I who have bitten through your skin
Envy the surgeon who could dip
His deft and conscious fingers in
Your bowels, and twitch a scornful lip.

I would have paddled in you, played
Childlike and cloudless of your pain.
I would have kissed the wound, and made
A pleasant ripple in your brain.

Within the startling lovelier mouth
New-cut my brother torch should flare
And pour to ease its awful drouth
The poison of a Baudelaire.

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