The Golden Cunt (An Epithalamium
Clare Louise Harmon
Insert yourself en scéne. The tale: Untouched and Lover.
Face veneered sparkle painted
though not yet plucked.
Enter Untouched.
She is virgin-flat bonded switch below
a cartoon moon.
Enter Lover.
Untouched thinks herself
no longer begotten
gasps:
O Lover! Come pair with me and when
our fingers fast and suckling lips attune
my hair undone and bra askew I’ll croon!
She winces slow receives
O God!
Lover slips and sweats. So wet.
Unzipped refreshed by sweet
by his sour scent
goo as polished pebble
airborne inverse
rivulet.
It streaks.
Now but now and now forget
after fluid flows
inevitable regret:
You are your sex.
Coming soon forget
affront:
You have a golden cunt!
Clare Louise Harmon is the author of The Thingbody: A Verse Memoir (Instar Books, 2015) and the chapbook If Wishes Were Horses the Poor Would Ride (Finishing Line Press, 2015). Her work has appeared in Sixth Finch, PANK, The Feminist Wire, Tammy, and others. She lives in New Orleans with her rescue dog, Tink, and teaches violin, viola, and piano at the Louisiana Academy of Performing Arts.