Harmon

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.

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