ROOTS

The filthy one and Lusus Naturae.

Naked in her depth of despair,

like a dog’s bone, waiting for Papa Lupine

digging her own grave.

She calls herself ugly and admits

a small spinet with no legs, is definitely no

piano.

The soil in which she sleeps,

is clean not like her.

The dirty one,

the girl with black feet.

Sprawled out like Eve.

Baring her breasts and very soul,

the parts that laugh and sing.

What would her papa say if he knew?

If she has one at all?

Surely the girl has a papa?

See she is crying, searching!

Resting in her hole.

Yes! She must celebrate because she has

found him.

Papa no-one, papa no-one.

Written by N.J. Storm