January 23, 2008

That Buxom Wench

How could I not remember thee:
that buxom wench in filigree.
You stole the heart within my chest
and laid my weary bones to rest.
Caked in soil and mucky sod,
upon my toil you deftly trod.
Your labor drew a princely sum
exacted in a dingy slum.
How could I not remember thou;
you gave me AIDS, you stupid cow.