The Pearly Gatekeeper

I confess this is one poem written, tongue-in-cheek (or just cheek if you prefer) satirising a recent political issue arising across the pond.

Patriotic, patriarchic
Fearing feathered laps and more
Worrysome, these wombs, anarchic
Labelled evermore a whore

Prodding, probing legislation
Teach our daughters how to face
Tomorrows from a wealthy nation
Focussed on their private place

O, Vagina, queen of secrets
Whose great gifts on Earth we’d bear
But still run from smelly prophets
Who’d uncover what lay bare

Life is sacred, while it’s cooking
Time each egg to see the joke
Thicken sauce with lack of looking
Scald the chaste and thoughtless yoke

With our bras and pants still burning
Such great liars will become
Our legislator’s dirty washing
Aired in public prosecution

Heartsick and pro-life no longer
Lebensraum or yummy mums?
Lively movements, stepping stronger
Feel the beating of the drums

Give abortionists the finger
Only virgins may protest
At the well-trained careless bringer
Of invasive tissue tests

Rights to think and feel and ponder
What it is that makes a man
Or woman out of spit and thunder
Prosecute such sticky plan

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