An adult man and woman have
Nothing to join them but their Genitals.²
When she begins to have sex, it is as if she is
Picking up a doll marked “Girl” and a doll marked “Boy”
And Banging them together, hoping to unite herself.³
Seeing what’s under my Skirt doesn’t
Let them really see me as a person.⁴
“You’re just a Common Prostitute.”
“And what kind of whore are you?”⁵
How close to the bone and
The skin and the eyes and the lips
Can you get and still feel so Alone?⁶
Love’s gentle spring doth always fresh remain—
But Lust’s Winter comes ere summer half be done.⁷
If sex were all, then every trembling hand
Could make us Squeak.⁸
All this marching and cheering and
Waving of flags—is simply sex gone Sour.⁹
Society, if it is not deflected from its present course,
And if the bomb doesn’t Drop on it—
Will Hump itself to death!¹⁰
¹ Alan Dugan, Sixteen Lines on Marching
² Ursula K. Le Guin, The Matter of Seggri
³ Mary Gaitskill, Folk Song
⁴ Haruki Murakami tr. Jay Rubin, 1Q84
⁵ Richard Wright, Black Boy
⁶ Joni Mitchell, Coyote
⁷ William Shakespeare, Venus and Adonis
⁸ Wallace Stevens, Le Monocle de Mon Oncle
⁹ George Orwell, Nineteen Eighty-Four
¹⁰ Valerie Solanas, SCUM Manifesto