Karen

                       Karen

If I could burn a voodoo herb inside

Your bedroom, what result might I expect?

The smell of lusting would be amplified.

The smell of darker men, their thrills erect

And thrusting toward your heart, would reappear

Among the fumes of witch-like woman eyes

You used to lure them to your sheets.  Your rear

Raised up to give the angle for the size

Of them, their thickest shoving of their need

To reach the devil’s dump up in your womb,

Would welcome every poke and hurtling seed.

The smoke from that assault would fill the room.

  The smoke would smell of nappy armpit hair

    But also smell of female white despair.

~ Phillip Whidden