VAGINA:

That place through which we exit, sliding wetly down dark padded corridors, through the cushioned portals & into the light called life.

That place, as children, we prod & stuff, as with all mysterious orifices, with all manner of objects & dirty fingers, merely with innocent curiosity & fascination.

That place, as maid, we´re told is sinful, “don´t touch” & worse still, “let no man venture forward”, it is secret, it is sacred & lies in expectant, waiting, for “the right one”.

That place, in religious fervor, cut & stitched. In the spoils of war, plundered, in drunken stumblings & fumblings, abused & bruised, the butt of jokes & jests & then forgotten.

That place, in marriage, deemed the right of “the chosen one”, to be prodded, toyed & played with at his whim, regardless of its owner´s rightful voice.

That place, through which seed is planted, upon the salted waves of ardent passion. No other doorway permitting the admission of new life, only that place.

That place, of seepings, oozings & pungent odours, the tides of existence. The place of lost blood, bloomed seed & dark, damp constant yearnings.

That place, with age & drought, drying & shriveling in luxurious peace. That place, of theatrical monologues, where now stillness reigns supreme, having had its hey-day, having filled its obligations to society & men, having given pleasure to its rightful owner, having ensured the propagation & continuation of the species. That place, now happy to lie still & slumbering in well earned & flaccid rest. That place, the vagina.