He curses her belly
for possessing a female mind
while he sits, ignorant
that it is his imphy wimphy sperm
that is playing the tricks,
his to blame and hers to bear
as she tolerates his abuses for a ‘crime’
she did not commit.
Lost in his lonely castle of arrogant illusion
he pines for a heir, a male child, he cannot
get on desire.
Drowning in ravaging floods of teary conflict
she is desperate to please him,
but her belly refuses to run on remote
so they unite and separate,
impregnate and curse their fate
over and over again
until the remote reaps another harvest.
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