The English Word

I am not the night, girl
It is not then when I come
A scattered spurt of silver stars
The silent sex of ship and shore
Where rich wood beats the mating bars
The cliff’s legs open as a whore
The night, you see, is the coward’s grass
And I, my girl, am bold as brass

I am not the night, girl
It is not then when I come
You will think of your first in virgin sheets
How nice it would be to groan the taff
You try huff the iath in your heats 
But the bending body, she knows less than half
The night is not for me girl, I am not there,
But my hand is still bound-tangled, 
in your lamb-raw hair

I am not the night, girl
Though I haunt it, when you come
My shackle-flag clattered round the wrist
The bedding pin blood-rough through your thumb
In the clutter red I spread and cyst
White polyps, ks and qs,round-sweet as plum
I lay with my makers in the night, girl;
You just rent me
But though you call for cwtch and thras,
The language that I fucked from you 
Leaves gwely cold and empty 

I am not the night girl,
I shine on in the day
As I stormed through miner’s fields 
And through tymhestlog bay
I licked the words from your leg
Like monthly blood and man’s white bile
And as I bite and suck, you cherish-beg
You call for more, and smile
You cry when we are not alone
That your words are dead, unlush
Your language, vulnerable and prone
And it was I who damned its sacred gush
You’re right, yes, in a way-
Your mother tongue is long dead
A crippled and half-rot stray
It’s reddened head
Broke-off between my thighs
I had it but I still have you 
Because you’ll always agored for my lies
So if there is guilt for robbing white, 
For who?

I have no need of the night, girl 
You made sure of that 
You trade your tongue at the door 
For syntax and graduation hat 
Howling, cath mewn gwres, for English more 
I do not need the night, girl 
You’ll have me in the day
Writhing in the open square, wet, without shame
Speak Shakespeare; you’re a guaranteed lay
Without your gs and double ds, you only have your name 
You are not the Welsh virgin bride
My bed you’ve stained the most
As righteous as your language pride
I still pip the dragon to the post
I am not the night, girl 
I shine yellow in the day 
I am not the night, girl 
It’s him who hides away

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