Viewport width =
April 3, 2016 | by  | in Creative Writing |
Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

My Iron Cervix

Whilst muttering all for my sexual prime,

I lay on the bed and tried not to faint.

The doctor was having a hard time

so the nurse held my arm, a pre-emptive restraint.

 

I lay on the bed and tried not to faint,

fought the urge to give doctor a kick.

Nurse held my arm, a pre-emptive restraint,

frowned as my pulse and consciousness slipped.

 

Fought the urge to give doctor a kick,

but the fucking bit of plastic wouldn’t go in!

Frowning, as my pulse and consciousness slipped,

she stopped, and said your cervix is iron.

 

The fucking bit of plastic wouldn’t go in,

and the doctor was having a hard time

so she stopped, and said your cervix is iron.

All the more for my sexual prime!

Share on FacebookShare on Google+Pin on PinterestTweet about this on Twitter

About the Author ()

Comments are closed.

Recent posts

  1. An (im)possible dream: Living Wage for Vic Books
  2. Salient and VUW tussle over Official Information Act requests
  3. One Ocean
  4. Orphanage voluntourism a harmful exercise
  5. Interview with Grayson Gilmour
  6. Political Round Up
  7. A Town Like Alice — Nevil Shute
  8. Presidential Address
  9. Do You Ever Feel Like a Plastic Bag?
  10. Sport
1

Editor's Pick

In Which a Boy Leaves

: - SPONSORED - I’ve always been a fairly lucky kid. I essentially lucked out at birth, being born white, male, heterosexual, to a well off family. My life was never going to be particularly hard. And so my tale begins, with another stroke of sheer luck. After my girlfriend sugge