The Finances of Menstrual Eggs

a poem by Kevin Hylands

The thrusting violence of liquid animosity
is like a credit card in the hands of Lionel Jeffries.

The busty nonchalant of Mrs Mustard and Sir La-di-da Bum-laster
is like a tropical disease on hot buttered toast
served with guile and smile by the late Mickie Most.

It hurts to say it Mother
but Uncle smells of old greaze, dog flatulence and duodenal intensity.

Put
It
Away
Mildred
Or
I
Shall
Engage
In
Telephonic
Communication
With
Conditional
Rabbis.